


To Tare out Taint

by The_Chronicler



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Psychological Torture, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-08
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2019-08-20 14:52:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 44,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16557854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Chronicler/pseuds/The_Chronicler
Summary: Meet the Order van Helsing, the secretive Mundane army sworn to the protection and purity of mankind. In their eyes, the Shadowhunters were mortals tainted with Angel blood and practiced in blasphemy with Runes, but at least they could be counted on to keep the hated Down Worlders in line. Or so the Order had thought. Perhaps it was time they visited America and saved the Shadowhunters from further tainting their line.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My first try at a Shadowhunter fic.  
> There may be rape further on. I'm undecided. I'll see how you all react. But, be warned. I'll add the warning if that happens.  
> Otherwise, enjoy.

0o0o0o0  
To Tare out Taint  
Prologue  
0o0o0o0

He was not a tall man, not a short one. He was neither handsome nor ugly. He wasn’t a snappy dresser, or, even, a boring one. He wasn’t too loud nor too quiet. It seemed the only thing noticeable about him at all was that there was nothing about him worth noting at all. 

That was how the mundane world saw him: simply mundane.

But, when Hubert van Leige stood before the Curia dei Sette, the Court of Seven, he was nothing simple about him. He was a Captain in the Order van Helsing, an elite hunter of evil, a warrior of God, and, at that moment, an advocate for the defence of the Purity of their race.

“I stand before you on this night, a humble man of faith in God and Sword, to pray for guidance in a grave case of taint of soul and body.” His voice rumbled throughout the massive room, reaching every corner.

The Seven sat high up in their cathedras, their heavy black robes spread about them, their steepled hats setting high in their brows. Each gazed down at their Captain with expressions etched in stone, eyes void of emotion. Across their laps was the weapon of their choice back in the time when they, themselves, were Captains, Knights, of the Order van Helsing. The weapons varied from sword to hammer to trident and more.

“Case?” spoke Bishop Netzach, first of the Seven. “Not simply and incident?”

The Captain shook his head. “Sadly, your Excellency, I believe it is, indeed, a case. Not a simple, single incident.”

“Explain.” 

“As we know, the Nephilim are, by nature, a tainted race. Mankind tainted by the blood of an Angel.” Van Leige explained.

“As you say, this we know.” Bishop Zaphkiel spoke. “It is an accepted taint, considering their purpose against the vile spread of the demon spawned.”

“Is it, my Bishop?” the Captain countered. “We have turned our eyes from their continued blasphemy for the sole purpose that you have described. But, what if they take advantage of that turned eye to deepen their contamination?”

There was a hesitation among the Seven, before Netzach asked “Have you witnessed this?”

Van Leige bowed his head as if in mourning. “Indeed I have, your Excellency.” Raising his eyes again, he spread his arms and announced “I have witnessed such a vile case. A Nephilim of high rank among the New York Institute had been reported to me as portaling through out Europe and Asia, seemingly on holiday with his… lover.” He paused for dramatic effect, letting the Council consider. “His Warlock Lover!”

There was a hiss of disgust among the Seven as they each glanced from one and another.

The holy soldier continued his testimony: “I could not believe that a proud Shadowhunter would fall so far, to condemn himself so whole, that I went in search for them myself. In Paris I witnessed their very public show of obvious affection. And, again, in Xi’an.”

“Public?” Abathar, the Sixth of Seven, sounded alarmed. “Pray tell they at least were glimmered?!”

The Captain bobbed his head. “Yes, glammored they were, but any and every Down Worlder known to roam those streets in heavy numbers bore witness. Witness to this…. This Rune stained, half-angel Fouling what little soul he has, weakening himself…” He stopped short of actually spatting. 

“You fret over the single Nephilim?” Netzach asks. “Has our mighty fallen so far that our swords can not tame one Nephilim and his Warlock lover?”

Van Leige didn’t allow the words to sting. If words hurt, he had no hope against the blades and teeth he fought as a way of life. Thus, he ignored the implied affront, and explained his concern. “The rank this Nephilim holds is Head of the New York Institute. It has been the New York Institute that has lead the recent weakening of the Clave, the alliances with the Down Worlders. This Nephilim has even allowed… invited!... Down Worlders into his Institute, gave them voice in the ruling of his city!” He paused, this time to look each of the Seven in the eye, before settling on Bishop Netzach, First of Seven. “If it was the taint of only one Shadowhunter, then, true, I could see him done with, and his Warlock lover cast down to the pits of hell from which he came. But, this Shadowhunter’s influence has spread, taking with it his taint. He has infected his city, and, from there, it has spread across the Americas like hell fire. He is held up as an example to, not only his fellow Shadowhunters, but all the American Nephilim. All across the land, Institutes are opening their doors to Down Worlders, making unholy alliances, creating vile coalitions, damning an entire continent, and, most unforgivable, exposing American Mankind to the dangers of an unchecked demon infection!”

Bishop Jehoe, Seventh of Seven, clutched at her battle axe. “The entire taint of the Americas… We, of the Old World, have fought the Americas before and it has never ended well.”

“I do not suggest another World War, your Excellency.” The Captain was quick to assure. “It is not broken bodies that mend broken souls. It is minds and hearts that we must attack and purify!”

“What then, pray tell, do you suggest?” inquired Abaddom, Fifth of Seven. 

Captain Hubert van Leige clasped his hands behind his back and raised his chin. “I suggest that it is the example that needs to be purified and held to the light so that those who follow his lead will also be lead back to their duty as protectors of Mankind, warriors against the dark evils of Demon kind.”

There was a silence from the Seven as they considered this. 

Finally, Netzach asked “And how will the Nephilim react to the purification of one of their own?”

“It was the Vienna Institute I approached first. Offered them the opportunity to cleanse their own. Alas, they were unwilling to challenge the Clave in this matter. They refused their American brother’s visitation, even damned and cursed him behind his back, but, currently, they believe the mood of the Clave is to be lenient with the New York Institute. The Clave, it seems, is somewhat obsessive with the discovery of the Two-blood Shadowhunters who are nested in New York.”

Bishop Zaphkiel huffed. He turned to the First of Seven, complaining “The Two-bloods are as surely a taint as any. Their breeding will strengthen the Nephilim kind beyond control! They must be dealt with….”

Netzach held up a hand, silencing his fellow Bishop. “They are not who we are discussing at this time, Brother.” He reminded all, his voice steady and calm while his eyes remained fastened on their Captain. After a long moment, he took a deep breath and let it out in a slow, resigned sigh. “You have made your case well, my child. Can you do as you say? Can you purify this forsaken Nephilim?” 

Captain van Leige gave one, sharp nod. “I have faith that I can, your Excellency.”

“Then, by the holy wisdom of the Curia dei Sette, with the Blessing of God in your servitude to the the Purity of His most beloved Children, that of Mankind, we give you authority to pursue this task before you.” Bishop Netzach announced. “Seek out and purify this…” he paused, head tilted.

“Lightwood, your Excellency.” Van Leige hurriedly supplied. “Alexander Lightwood.”

“Seek out and purify this mislead Alexander Lightwood. Bring him into the fold so that he may lead those others of his kind back to the Light.” Netzach held up his hand, blessing the Captain. “Now, be to your task!”

Captain Hubert van Leige pressed a fist to his heart in salute. “As you command.” Then he spun on heal and marched from the Court. 

Just beyond the doors, he was greated by his officers, all Knights of the Holy Order van Helsing. They looked to him with eager eyes, holding hopeful breaths.

Van Leige smiled. “Gather the Regiment.” He ordered. “We leave at once for New York.”


	2. Chapter One

==========  
Chapter One  
========= 

He was in heaven. 

Warm, bright, fluffy, blissful heaven.

He stretched his arms far over his head, his back arching with a long, lazy yawn.

A purr sounded from somewhere across the room.

Alexander smirked, snuggling back into the luxury of the soft covers of Magnus’ bed, like sinking into a cloud.

The bed shifted. An all too familiar weight straddled his hips. A nose nuzzled his neck, teeth nipping at his throat. The purr again, this time hummed right into his ear.

Alexander couldn’t help it: he giggled!

“What is this?” Magnus chuckled against his throat. “A mighty, fierce Shadowhunter…. giggling? How un-Shadowhuntery of you.” 

With a huff, feigned irritation, Alec snatched a hold of Magnus’ hips and rolled.

With a startled yipe, the Warlock suddenly found himself on his back, pinned by the rather strong, not to mention ravishing, young Shadowhunter.

Alexander leaned down, nipping at the sensitive skin over those fine ribs. “I…” he growled, his tongue flicking out, teasingly, sending flinches throughout his lover’s body, “do not…” nip and lick, working his way up that smooth chest, “giggle!” 

Magnus cupped Alec’s head in his hands and practically dragged him up to meet him, lips to lips, tongue to hungry tongue, sharing breaths that were suddenly coming in gasps. Hands were suddenly everywhere, eager and greedy, touching everywhere, feeling everything, seeking….

The cell phone on the nightstand vibrated.

Alec dropped his head to Magnus’ chest with an agonizing groan.

Magnus laughed, shaking his lover. “Come, my sweetums, we must return to the day to day life of Shadowhunter and High Warlock at some point.” He reached for the phone.

“Some point tomorrow?” Alec practically pleaded. Well aware of the answer, he rolled off his lover, reluctantly claiming the phone Magnus offered up. With a few swipes, he read the text and groaned again.

The Warlock chuckled, running his hand up Alex’s spine. “Go, my love. Be my big, brave Shadowhunter. Fight evil, save the day, return to me in glorious triumph….”

“We should have never returned.” Alec complained as he pulled on his pants. 

“Oh, there will be other holidays, other month-long trips abroad with nothing but you and me…” 

“…And as little clothing as possible….”

Magnus laughed again. “I have created a monster.” He swatted the very tight clad rear of his lovely Shadowhunter. “Be on your way, beast!”

With a pout, Alexander leaned over him to lay a chaste kiss on his forehead. “I’ll be back.” he promised.

Magnus smiled up at him. “I’ll be waiting with bated breath.” he promised right back.

Alec rose up, gazed down at him a moment longer, before, with a groan, turned and headed out the door. 

“Jace….” Alexander growled as he stepped out onto the street below. He knew his parabatai was there even without looking about. “I hate you.” 

The tall blond pushed away from the wall with a smirk. “Interrupted something?” The scathing glare from his spiritual brother was answer enough. “Geez, didn’t you get enough of that popping around Europe?”

“Big brother!” Izzy squealed as she leaped out of nowhere into her brother’s arms. She gave him a fierce hug before stepping back and smacking him in the shoulder. “Why haven’t you called us? You’ve been home for days!” she complained.

“Day.” Alec corrected. 

“Day. Days.” Clary chuckled as she joined the group. “Tomatoe, tomato…” When the other three gave her that look of complete confusion, she rolled her eyes. “We really have to introduce you guys to a little pop culture.” She reached out to squeeze Alec’s hand. “Welcome home, Alec.”

He smiled at her. But then he stepped back and straightened his jacket, back to all business. “So? The mission?” he inquired.

Izzy grinned. “Can’t wait to get back, can you?” she teased. “He that good a kisser?”

“Aaaah.” Clary cooed. “Kissy, kissy-poo?” She frowned at herself and looked at Izzy. “Did I actually just say kissy, kissy-poo?”

Isabella’s grin was just as evil as ever. “Yes, you did.” She cast her full of mischief gaze back on her brother. “Better than what I was gonna say.”

Alec actually blushed.

Jace groaned, cupping his hands over his ears. “I don’t want to hear this!”

The girls giggled.

“MISSION!” Alec pleaded.

Izzy looped her arm through her brother’s and began to lead him away. “Yes, dear brother of mine. We have word of a nest of Drevak that needs cleaning out.”

“Great.” Alec huffed. “Bug duty.”

“Better than talking about your love life.” Jace reminded him as he and Clary fell in step.

That just sent the girls into another bout of giggles.

\-----

With a wave of his hand, Magnus sent a flurry of blue energy swirling about, opening the big door to his condo.

Lucian stood, hand raised in mid-knock. He raised a dark eyebrow in amusement. “Well, hello to you too.” He greeted the High Warlock of Brooklyn. 

Out from behind the big man poked a head tussled with black hair and big, amazed eyes. “How does he do that?” Simon hissed. “Just once I’d like to sneak up on him.”

Luke gave him that knowing smile. “Really? You want to startle a High Warlock?”

Magnus smirked at that. “Oh, why not? Been awhile since I’ve turned anyone into a naked mole rat.” He mused with a wiggle of his fine fingers, sending blue bubbles dancing through the air. 

Simon paled even more than one could think the young vampire could go. He glanced up at Luke. “Can he do that?”

Luke tilted his head in thought. “You know, I don’t know. But I’d sure hate to be the one to find out.” He admitted. Sharing a smile with the Warlock, he led the way into the condo. “Nice to have you home, Magnus.”

“And just in time.” Simon was quick to add.

“Indeed?” Magnus hummed as he lightly stepped out onto his balcony, whipping his silk robe about as he fell back into a lounger. “Just in time for what?” he wondered. He waved a hand at the elegant couches, offering his guests a seat.

With a heavy sigh, the young vampire dropped into a seat. “Folks are spooked, Magnus. Almost no one even wants to leave the hotel. Some are even talking about packing up and moving on.” He complained.

Magnus raised one eyebrow and glanced at Luke. “The vampires want to leave town?”

“Not just the vampires.” Luke noted. He leaned on the back of a chair. “The Pack is itchy too.” Out of the corner of his eye he saw Simon open his mouth, so he felt the need to warn “One more joke about fleas, Simon, and I’m telling Maia.”

Simon frowned. “Tell her what?” 

Luke smirked. “I’ve known you nearly all your life, Simon. What do you think I could possibly tell her?”

Didn’t take the boy too long before his expression became alarmed. He snapped his mouth shut, pinching his lips, and becoming suddenly obsessed with the pattern on the coffee table.

Magnus chuckled, but chose not to comment on the odd father/son dynamics of the werewolf and vampire before him. That would be a discussion in of itself far too long, even for an immortal. Instead, he asked “And, pray tell, what has the Downworld communities all in a huff?”

Luke jerked his head. “Show him.”

Simon pulled from his pocket a cloth covered item and set it down on the coffee table. He quickly unwrapped it before scooting back, almost as if he was afraid of it.

And, little wonder, it was a cardinal red dagger with a long, three-sided blade nine inches long. The hilt was a finely crafted piece with a, elaborate guard that crossed the dagger at just the right spot that it made the whole thing look like an artistic crucifix. 

Magnus’ eyes narrowed, recognizing the weapon nearly at once. All amusement left him and he was suddenly very much the very serious High Warlock of Brooklyn. “Where di you get this?” he wanted to know, sliding forward in his seat to get a better look at the weapon. 

“Embedded in the door of the hotel.” Simon glanced up at Luke, before asking “You know what it is?”

The Warlock’s brow came together in a very real frown. “A warning.”

“From who?” Luke wanted to know.

Magnus tapped the weapon. “Is this the only one?”

The pack leader shook his head. “Found another at the Jade Wolf. And Dot…”

The Warlock’s head snapped up at mention of one of his own.

“She’s alright.” Luke quickly assured. “She found one at her shop, brought it to me since you were still… occupied. She’s staying with some friends in Jersey. Said she’d get in touch with you later.”

Magnus nodded once, turning his eyes back to the dagger.

“Magnus.” Luke pushed. “Warning from who?”

The High Warlock leaned back again. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, as if preparing himself for something difficult. “The Order van Helsing.” He finally answered, pulling his eyes from the dagger to look up at Luke.

Luke looked confused. “van Helsing? Here? In the States?”

“van Helsing? Like in Dracula’s archenemies, the vampire slayer?” Simon practically squeaked.

“Stocker’s Dracula was more of a… a media distraction from the true van Helsing.” Magnus explained. 

“It’s a cult…” Luke started to growl.

“A religious order, an off shoot of the Jesuits from way back in the 1500s.” the Warlock corrected. 

“The mundane’s version of Shadowhunters.” Luke added. But he offered a small shrug. “Though it is rumored that they have embraced some fallen Shadowhuters that have been disenfranchised by the Clave.” 

Again Magnus disagreed on the wording. “Shadowhunters protect both mundanes and Downworlders. The Order sees Downworlders as a blight, a curse, a… a cancer that must be dug out and utterly destroyed.”

Simon’s eyes widened. “Utterly? Not, say… a little bit destroyed? Or, even, just destroyed?” He was still squeaking. “But Utterly?!”

“What are they doing here?” Luke wanted to know.

Magnus shook his head. “I’ve never seen them on this side of the ocean before.” He admitted. “Something… Someone….” He suddenly lurched to his feet, snatching a phone. “They came for us!”

“Us?” Simon pointed at himself, again glancing up at Luke.

“Us!” Magnus actually snapped. “I knew we were being watched here and there around Europe, but I was… distracted!”

Luke caught on. “A Shadowhunter and a Warlock… I’m guessing you didn’t do the whole not be seen thing?

Magnus rolled his eyes. “As I said… Distracted!” he said the last word with a twirl of fingers.

“What does that have to do with us?” Simon wondered, before quickly adding “Not that I don’t find that disturbing but why our doors and not…. Well, your door?”

“Perhaps to keep us off guard or blaming each other….? I don’t know.” He snapped his phone off. “He’s not answering.”

Luke gave him an him an understanding nod. “He’s probably hunting. We can track him.” He turned and headed for the door on the heels of a suddenly fully clothed Warlock.

\------

It was cold and damp. The scraping and chittering of rats scurrying in the shadows, interrupted by the occasional squeak, was the only close sound. Far off, through tones of rock, was the regular rumble of distant trains racing through passing tunnels. The air was so stale it weighed down on the lungs like a layer of dust. Graffiti stained the walls and pillars that lined the chipped and broken tiled walk. Little bits of paper and broken glass littered the floor.

“This is…. wrong.” Alec mumbled. 

Izzy was walking along the walls, her stele lit and her whip ready, but she was looking just as frustrated as her brothers. “There’s nothing here. No ichor, no needles, no bore holes…”

“No bodies.” Jace complained right along with her as he climbed up out of the empty train track. “There’s nothing here!” he did another spin around just to assure himself that the first, second, and third search of the warehouse had missed anything. 

Clary shrugged. “Shouldn’t that be a good thing?” she suggested. “No demons. No victims. All good?”

“Good, yes.” Alec answered as the four of them came together. “Bad that we got false information.” He gave his sister a stern look. “Exactly where did this tip come from?”

Izzy was busy with her phone, scrolling for information. “I… it came through the network… but…” She ground away, glaring at her phone.

“But what?” Clary asked.

“It isn’t here anymore.”

“It isn’t…” Jace snatched her phone away so he could look himself. “How can it not be there anymore?”

Izzy snatched her phone right back. “I don’t know. It’s a closed network!”

It was Clary who wondered “Shouldn’t we be asking why?” When the others looked at her, she asked again “Why would we get a false tip that sends us down here, then is mysteriously erased from the network?”

The other three stopped 

Alec turned slowly, taking another look at the abandoned subway station. “What is going on here?” he wanted to know.

There was a tin clank as a soda sized can dropped to the floor between the four of them and rolled across the ground until it was stopped by toe of Jace’s boot. 

It took half a breath….

“Grenade!”

“Jace, kick it!” Alec snapped, grabbing his sister and throwing her away. He spun around, grabbing for Clary.

Jace kicked, sending the grenade flying back toward the train tracks. 

But, no sooner was it in the air and away, than two more hit the ground in front if him, already spewing a thick fog. As if attracted to the tall blond, the fog coalesced around him, engulfing the Shadowhunter.

Jace couldn’t breath. He couldn’t see. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t feel as he slammed into the hard floor.

“Jace!” Alec yelled, shoving Clary back toward Izzy. He took a running step toward his brother, but heard another clank of yet another grenade hitting the floor. This time behind him.

And then another.

And another.

“Clary, get back!” Izzy was yelling, but both girls were already coughing.

It tore his heart apart, but Alec turned away from his parabatai and took a step back toward the girls. 

A clank landed at his feet.

Alec had no time to move or think before the fog was everywhere, all about him, burning down his throat, choking off the world before blackness swallowed him whole.

======


	3. Chapter Two

======  
Chapter Two  
======

He found himself deep down in a cold, dark, murky pool. The world was so thick around him he could have been floating through mud. It filled his senses, filling his ears with pressure, choking off his airways, coating his eyes with dark, dark, ever so dark…

A flash of light!

He was lost in a world so dark and thick, crushing him from all dimensions…

A flash of light!

He reached out, stretching limbs he could not feel, grasping at what he could not see. 

A flash of light!

He knew there was something out there, something leading him back!

A flash of light!

Alec!

A flash of light!

Alec! Brother! Parabatai! 

The light faded.

Alec! Where are you going?

Further and further away…

Alec! Stop! Alec, don’t leave! Come back! 

Blinding light!

“Alec!” Jace cried, bolting upright so suddenly he sent the medic falling back against Clary’s bed.

“Woe! Take it easy, man!” Simon was quick to push away from Clary to catch the medic. “Man, give yourself a moment. You’re not gonna do anyone any good flat on your face on the floor.” The little vampire bobbed his head to one side. “Though that might be fun to see…”

“Simon.” Luke interrupted.

“Sorry.” Simon mumbled, sitting back on Clary’s bed, arms crossed like a pouted child. 

With a nod to the medic, Luke stepped forward, taking his place in front of the shadowhunter. “Jace, you need to calm down. Take a deep….”

“By the Angel, if someone doesn’t tell me where the hell Alec is…” Jace snarled, already reaching for the irritating vampire.

“Jace!” Clary snapped. “Calm down!”

Jace snapped his mouth shut, looking at Clary, actually seeing her for the first time since he had opened his eyes. 

She sat on an infirmary bed, hand to her head, red hair falling in all directions. She leaned heavily on Simon, her long lashes barely open, her brow scrunched up like she was in pain. Her skin was pale, very pale, too pale…

“Clary!” Jace pushed himself off the bed, heading for the girl he loved.

His legs didn’t even try to hold his weight. They just seemed to vanish beneath him, sending his whole world tumbling toward the floor in a dizzy spiral.

“Woe, there!” Luke leaped to catch him before he hit. When the medic hurried to help, Luke threw him a glare and a growled “I got him.” That sent the man back to a safe distance.

Jace’s whole world was suddenly spinning, tumbling and flipping about blinding flashes of color and deafening rhythmic thumps. His stomach lurched and he squeezed his eyes shut as if that might dam his guts up so they didn’t end up spewing out. He tried to find his legs to no avail, and was left clutching onto Luke with what little strength he could muster. Though, truth be told, he had no idea Luke was even there, much less that he was leaning completely on the man. 

“Easy, Jace. Just slow it down… slow…. Deep…. Breaths…” Luke encouraged as he easily lifted the tall blond, settling him back on the bed. Holding him upright by one shoulder while rubbing his back with his free hand, Luke was suddenly taken be how fast his fatherly instincts had taken over. Didn’t matter that Jace pissed him off 90% of the time and he had considered a time or two wolfing out on the kid. But a glance over his shoulder to where Simon and Clary sat he reminded himself that that fatherly instinct never really turned off. “That’s it.” He continued to encourage. “Slow, deep breaths…. One at a time…”

It took a moment, but the world slowly steadied. The flashes faded and the thumps died down. Jace forced the burning bile back down and took another deep breath before he dared to open his eyes again. He pushed away from Luke as soon as he realized the man was there.

Luke took a respectable step back, though not too far back.

“Jace?” Clary called from her bed. She had managed to sit up on her own and was watching Jace with quite a bit of concern.

“I’m alright.” Jace managed to mumble. Frowning, he looked up at Luke as if to get confirmation.

The pack leader shrugged. “Don’t move too fast. It’s gonna take a little while for you to get your feet under you.” He offered.

“I got it.” Jace growled, embarrassed by his show of weakness, but he offered the man a slight nod of gratitude.

“Why?” Simon wondered. “I mean, Clary and Jace are still totally comatose…”

“Not totally.” Clary’s protest was grumbled over Jace’s snarled “I’ll show you comatose, you freakin’ fang!”

Oblivious, Simon continued “But Izzy is practically up and about…”

“Barely.” Izzy protested as she stumbled through the door, Magnus half a step behind her. The warlock had a hand out as if he expected to have to catch her at any moment.

“Still…” Simon finished his point by waving a hand at Izzy and, by comparison, the other at Clary and Jace.

“It’s their Angel blood.” Magnus explained. “Or, rather, the intensity of their Angel blood.” He paused to wiggle his fingers, summoning a chair from across the room for Izzy, indicating a sit or else with a jerk of his head.

Izzy, not feeling like any sort of shape to argue, dropped into the chair, handing the canister she was carrying up to the Warlock.

In return, Magnus held it up for all to see. 

Jace actually cursed at it as if the empty grenade could still do harm.

“The gas is… was a mixture of magic and science, designed to attack and paralyze Angel blood.”

“But Izzy has Angel blood too.” Clary pointed out.

“But not as pure nor as concentrated as your’s and Jace’s.” it was Luke who concluded. “Remember: not only do you have the everyday Nephilim dose, but you have a much more recent dosage from a completely different Angel.” 

“Double the Angel, double the pow.” Simon whistled.

“What about Alec?” Jace brought it back to his parabatai. “Where’s Alec?”

Luke was frowning when he admitted “We were hoping you could tell us.”

Jace’s expression went from confusion to anger to near panic. “What do you mean? You don’t know where he is? Someone attacked us! Are you saying they took him? Why? Is he…” He stopped and a hit of real panic struck. His eyes went big, his hand dropping to his side where his parabatai rune was.

Magnus was the fastest, leaping to deny any possibility “He’s not dead!” He shook his head, a stubborn look coming over him as if by saying it than it must be true. “Alexander! Is! Not! Dead!”

Jace looked at Clary, but she had her hands over her mouth like she was trying to hold back a cry. 

Simon put his arm around her shoulders and answered Jace’s look. “Luke tracked you to the subway. There was still some smoke, but Magnus cleared it. We only found you three. We got you back here as quick as we could. That was… what? Four hours ago.”

“I sent the pack looking, and Shadowhunters are canvasing the city, but we’re coming up empty.” Luke admitted. “He just vanished from the subway. Any scent trail was obscured somehow… “ He shook his head.

“Even the Warlocks are looking.” Magnus added.

“And the vamps!” Simon was quick to throw in. “Soon as it got dark enough.”

“Jace, he’s your parabatai. You’d feel it if he was dead.” Luke assured. “Do you feel him at all? Anything?”

Jace closed his eyes. He shoved all the woozy thoughts aside and concentrated on his rune, on his link to Alec.  
But there was nothing there.  
Nothing.  
No hurt, no feelings, no thoughts, no anything…  
Nothing!  
Alec wasn’t there!

Jace shook his head. “Where is he, Luke?” he almost pleaded, looking up at the man, feeling helpless and lost without that constant rock that was his parabatai. “Where is my brother?”

\-----

The world was so black he didn’t know if his eyes were open or closed. The air was so cold his joints ached, and his lungs burned. Everything that touched his bare skin was sharp, and nearly every bit of skin was bare. A continuous whistle vibrated through the space, so soft it could barely be heard but so high pitched it scratched at his ear drums.   
A scratch that dug its way through his skull and into his brain, like an insect burrowing down deep to gnaw away at his tender emotions and fragile sanity, scattering his thoughts, shattering his concentration…

Jace…

Instinct led his hand to his side, to his parabatai rune.   
His courage…  
His direction….  
His brother!  
But he couldn’t feel him….  
He couldn’t feel anything!

Jace!   
Where are you?

Focus, Alexander Lightwood!  
FOCUS!  
By the angel….

Alec forced his lungs to take a deep breath… damn the cold!.... let it out in a slow exhale. 

Focus. Calm. Identify. Plan. Initiate action. Follow thru.

The Shadowhunter reached back, feeling the wall he was leaning against. 

Metal, smooth, sharp only because of its freezing temperature.

Bracing against it, he shifted his legs under him, and pushed up, climbing up the wall until he was standing. His legs felt liquidy, but a sharp snap from his brain strengthened their resolve, able to hold his weight, if a little wobbly. 

The wall was to either side: a corner. Below, burning his toes and stinging the soles of his bare feet was the same smooth, icy metal. Despite the blackness around him, highly toned Shadowhunter instincts told him the ceiling bore down on him, low and just as cold as the rest of the room.

Not room.  
Box!  
A steal box!  
A cell!

With a click and a mechanical buzz, the sun switched on in the center of the cell, instantly burning away any and all blackness.

Alec threw an arm up, shadowing his eyes.

“Alexander Lightwood.” Came a voice.

Blinking through tears and flashes of color, Alec squinted at the source of the voice.

It was a woman: tall; long blond braid; red lips; clean, porcelain skin; pale blue eyes. She wore all black for the exception of a silver chain around her neck from which hung thumb size shield. She stood before him, her hands clasped behind her back, watching him, studying him.

“I am Karolina Cyprian, your Purifier.” She told him, her voice strangely business like. 

“Purifier?” Alec tried to repeat, but his voice came out a gasp and he had to swallow several times before his throat felt open again. He squeezed his eyes tight against the new burning.

The woman seemed not to notice. She produced a tablet and began to tap away at it. “I have a few questions for you before we get started. Answer honestly and to the best of your ability. Do you understand?” She looked at him expectantly.

Alec blinked at her, his muddled mind trying to understand. Understand her, understand where he was, understand what was going on, understand anything!   
But everything was so cold and so bright and so stingy….

If he could just think! 

“At this time, do you feel any pain and/or discomfort?” the woman asked

Pain?  
Discomfort?

Alec looked down at his tingling limbs, naked but for his boxer briefs: bare and shivering, pale and thin…

“Where are my clothes?” he wondered. He suddenly felt very exposed, embarrassed even, crossing his arms over his chest as if he could cover himself. 

The woman raised an eyebrow. Ignoring his question, she asked “Have you ever suffered a seizure?”

Alec’s eyes darted about. “Where am I? Where’s Jace? Izzy? Are they here? What are you doing to them?”

The Purifier again ignored his questions. “Do you have any allergies and/or sensitivities not listed in your medical file?” 

The Shadowhunter’s fists balled up, his jaw stiffening with frustration and helplessness. “What do you want from me?” he demanded.

The woman lowered her tablet, looking at him again “From you: nothing.” Karolina told him. “For you: salvation of your immortal soul.” 

Alec stared at her. “Immortal soul? What are you talking about?”

Karolina folded her arms around her tablet against her chest, taking on a school teacher look. “Within every chest of every descendent of Adam and Eve resides the most precious of Gifts, both fragile and wonderous.” She raised her chin slightly. “The Immortal Soul, the Blessing of God, Himself, in his most Holy wisdom and love, to those of his most favored children, Mankind.” She reached out and tapped him on the chest with one long finger. “You are a Nephilim, decedent of Mankind, yet tainted with the blood of an Angel.”

Alexander frowned. “Tainted?” 

“Your soul was compromised from birth, yet, since the taint was from an Angel, one of our Lord’s Knights of Heaven, and your intended purpose is that of most righteous cause, it has been considered an acceptable taint.” Her eyes narrowed slightly, her studious gaze turning to one of hard discipline and her tone of voice matched. “But you have abused that acceptance. You have furthered your taint with your addiction to these…” she waved a hand at his Runes, “… blasphemy self-mutilations and, worse of all, your infatuation with, and thus dependence upon, the Demon Spawned Beasts of the Downworld. Even a lustful rapture with a warlock, the offspring of a Prince of Hell, none the less! You have weakened your soul to the point of damnation, an unforgivable act, even for one as tainted as a Shadowhunter!” Again, she folded her arms over her tablet, the act almost like resetting her calm, her self-control. “Alas, you are not without hope. We have come to your rescue.”

“Rescue?!” Alec was starting to feel his own calm began to slip. “You’re not Nephilim! Not Downworlder! A Mundane? How does a mundane know… any of this?” He looked around his cell. “Who the hell are you? What the hell is going on?”

The woman sighed. “I am Karolina Cyprian, Knight of the Order van Helsing, your Purifier. And what is going on here is your Intervention, the salvation of your Immortal Soul.” She looked him up and down, making one more note of him, before advising “Get some rest. In the morning we began your Abstinence with the removal of your Runes.” She turned on her heal and seemingly melted through the wall.

“Wait!” Alec cried after her, alarmed be her sudden departure. He pushed away from the wall and tried to follow her, only to slam into the far wall. Desperately he ran his hands along the cold metal, trying to find the door.

The light was too bright. Alec couldn’t make out a door, but there had to be one… right?   
There had to be a way out!   
Right?

Stepping back to the center of the cell, he started to turn, searching for anything that simply resembled a door…  
A window…  
A vent…  
Anything…

Suddenly the light was gone, and, for one panicked breath, Alec felt like he was floating. The abyss was everywhere, so dark even the color black was gone.

The Shadowhunter felt the floor hit his knees before he even knew he was in a downward motion. The only sound was the fast pounding of his heart and that damnable whistle digging away at his back teeth!

FOCUS!  
FOCUS!!  
FOCUS!!!

Then the light flared on again, blinding him for just a breath, almost seeming to burn his skin with its intensity.  
Then vanished, dropping him back into the freezing abyss.  
Then flared to life again with burning intensity…  
Then abyss…  
Blazing sun….  
Abyss…  
Sun…  
Abyss…  
Sun…

With a whimper, Alexander Lightwood doubled over, wrapping his arms around his head, trying to hide from the revolving extremes.

“Jace…” he prayed, “Jace, where are you…?”

~~~~~~~~~~


	4. Chapter 3

======  
Chapter Three  
======

“Maia!”

The young woman considered stepping back into the Jade Wolf and hope she wouldn’t be followed. But, knowing there was no hope in that, she settled for a groan and turned to bravely face what came.

She was a bouncy, black bobbed haired, black eyed, young woman…. A girl really, even if she was the same age as Maia… with pink My Little Pony glittery sneakers and long, flowing skirt and a I-heart-NY t-shirt.

“Mysti, what are you doing here? Why aren’t you in class?” Maia all but growled. She heard the door latch solidly behind her, letting her know she was on her own to face this particular threat. Her own Pack was hiding inside like a bunch of whooped puppies!

Mysti skipped to a stop in front of her. “Why aren’t you?” she growled right back, though her big smile softened any real challenge.

“I have to work.” Maia answered.

“Well…. So do I!” the girl answered defiantly. 

Maia rolled her eyes. “You can’t come with us.” She put an end to that offer before it was even spoken.

Those black eyes went big and shiny. “But I can help!” Mysti pleaded. “I can hunt just as good as you!”

“There is a…. big difference between how a Werewolf hunts and a Warlock hunts.” Maia shook her head. “Does Magnus even know you’re here? Out on your own?”

The pure look of defiance was enough of an answer. Yet, the young Warlock still felt the need to say “I am as old as you are, Maia! I can make my own decisions!”

“That’s something else Werewolves and Warlocks do very different.” When the girl frowned at her, Maia pointed out “Age! You’re not even a toddler in terms of Warlocks! Werewolves now… “

“If you say a damn thing about dog years…”

Maia actually laughed. “Shut up!” 

Mysti clicked her sneakers, crossed her arms, and waited expectantly.

The young Werewolf gave an exaggerated grown as she turned away, letting her eyes try to find some peaceful solution in the docks around them.

And then she lost all amusement. 

Standing only a few yards away were two robed figures. There was no scent or sound that would have alerted her heightened senses. They were just suddenly there.

“Mysti, go inside.” Maia ordered, her tone taking on a definite growl this time. She took Mysti be the arm and guided her behind her.

But Mysti, now that she had seen the strangers, was having nothing of it. Instead, she greeted them. “Hello.”

The one to the left lowered her hood, revealing her blond hair and blue eyes. “Day may leave, little Warlock. ‘e ‘ave no need o’ dey at ‘is ‘ime.” She spoke in a heavily accented English. Then she turned her attention to Maia. “Hound! ‘e will ‘ave an accounin’ ‘rom dey!”

Maia frowned. “Huh?”

Mysti shrugged. “She wants you to account for something.” She translated. “And she called you a hound.”

“I got the hound bit.” Maia growled. To the stranger, she said “I don’t know you. I don’t have to account anything for you.” Even as she spoke, she reached back and rapped her knuckles on the door.

Instantly it opened and a rather large man stepped out behind her. Even in his human form, Kyle was formable looking, towering over all those before him, intimidating friend and foe alike.

Well, except for Mysti, half crazed, innocent, idiot Warlock that she was. 

“Hey, Kyle, how’s it hanging?” she greeted.

“Little to the left.” Was his traditional answer, even though his eyes never left the two strangers.

Mysti giggled.

She actually giggled!

Maia felt the first tinges of panic. She had to get Mysti out of here before she got hurt! “Mysti! Go! Inside! Now!” she snarled.

As if in response to the snarl, a giant wolf appeared at either corner of the Jade Wolf, flanking the strangers.

As for the strangers, they didn’t seem concerned at all. The woman repeated herself: “Hound! ‘e will ‘ave an accounin’ ‘rom dey!”

“I am not a hound!” Maia snapped. The wolves bristled.

Suddenly the second figure was moving.

Snapping his robe aside as he spun, producing a razor-sharp whip with a crack. Before another breath could pass from anyone, the whip was snapping around the wolf to the left’s throat. Another snap, and a pitiful yelp, the giant beast was slammed to the ground, the wire cutting through thick fur and digging into vulnerable flesh.

The other wolf leaped through the air, aimed at the man and his deadly whip. But the woman spun about, striking him out of the air with a heavy mace, slamming him to the ground with bone crushing force.

“Windel!” Maia cried, taking a step forward.

But the woman held up her hand. “I’ ‘e ‘ave ta cut it ‘rom dey ‘ide, ‘e will ‘ave an accounin’ ‘rom dey!”

“Accounting for what?” Maia snapped back.

It was the male who spoke, his English moderately better than his partner’s. “Dree of God’s Children ‘ave been bitten dis day by de Lycan kind! Account fer yer Pack’s crimes, bitch!” He ended with a twist of his whip, sending his captured wolf whimpering in agony.

“It wasn’t us!” Maia protested. “New York’s Pack obeys the Law! Our own Pack Leader is NYPD!” She shook her head. “Even if we were that type of Pack, the Clave would never allow it!”

“They know that.” Mysti spoke up, her own tone taking on a very serious and steady tint. 

“Mysti…” Kyle tried to warn her off.

But the little Warlock was focused on the strangers. “Don’t you get it? Hansel and Gretel here are of the Order. It was probably them who set up any attack… if an attack actually happened!... The sudden increase of crimes under the Clave’s rule… under the Lightwoods’ leadership… justifies the Order stepping in and rounding all us Downworlders up.” She snapped her fingers in the air. “That’s what you get from an AA in Political History, dipshit!”

Hensel glanced over his shoulder to Gretel. “De Warlock may be trainable. ‘e young an’ attentive.” He advised.

The woman shrugged. “Chastise ‘e hounds! Collar ‘e Warlock.” Was her command.

The man jerked back on his whip, letting the near unconscious wolf fall to the ground. All eyes followed the sharp, snapping end high in the air, watching to see who it would strike at next. While all were distracted, Hensel used his free hand to produce another weapon: a cylinder devise that looked something like a speaker. 

Kyle snatched both Mysti and Maia, throwing them to either side and out of the line of fire. His big form was already changing, clothes ripping as he began to take his wolf form. 

Maia turned the push to her advantage, using the momentum to aim a kick at Gretel and her deadly mace.

But then Hensel pushed a button.

A silent sound ripped through the wolves’ ears, ripping through their minds and bodies alike, collapsing them to the ground in withering agony.

Down on the ground and helpless was not enough for the two. Gretel raised her mace over Maia’s head and Hensel’s whip came slicing down through the air, cutting towards Kyle’s face.

“NO!” Mysti screamed, her very voice shaking the ground they stood on. With a swipe of her arm, a wave of invisible force threw the strangers back away from their quarries.

Feet skidding to a halt some distance away, the pair righted themselves and took a moment to reevaluate the Warlock.. 

Hensel handed his little noise maker to his partner, before turning for Mysti. “Come ‘long, little Warlock. Show us yer pretty Warlock Mark. Let’s see what yer made of…”

Mysti stepped forward, not only putting herself between their attackers and her fallen friends, but also giving herself room. “You want to see my Warlock Mark, you nazi asshat?” With a flick of the wrist her long flowing skirt was caught in a wind that whipped about her like her very own tornado. Below the skirts were long, armored, insect like legs shoed in pink My Little Pony glittery sneakers, and raising up behind her, out from hiding was an even longer scorpion like tail that ended in a deadly looking stinger. “Let’s see what you’re made of!”

~~~~~

Alarms were blaring, and maps were flickering.

Robert Lightwood stood tall in the center of the room, hands clasped behind his back, calmly directing the few present Shadowhunters to answering the alerts coming in.

“Father!” Izzy cried, startled to see him there in the Institute’s command center. She found herself a little dumbstruck by the sight of him, not sure if she should be thankful for him being there when her brother was not, or enraged for him showing his face after her mother being deruned.

Jace, on the other hand, was distracted more by the alarms. “What’s happening?” he demanded as he pushed pass Izzy to the nearest console. 

“A city left unattended.” was Robert’s cold answer. “Codwell, see to Sector Two.” he commanded, sending a Shadowhunter off, before turning to face his children. “Alec has let his… sympathies for the Downworlders blind him to their dangers.” He paused to glance at Luke, Magnus, and Simon as they came in. “We are Shadowhunters! We police, not befriend.”

Izzy shook her head. “What? We don’t see you for months….You do know someone took Alec… right?”

“Our concern, now, is to take back control of this city. The Downworlders have been left to run amuck….”

“Are you serious?” Jace interrupted. “It wasn’t Downworlders who took Alec! Our concern should be getting him back!”

Robert turned cold eyes on the boy he once considered a son. “The Clave is already in negotiations to do just that. In the meantime…”

“Wait!” Magnus stepped in. “Negotiations? Since when does the Order negotiate with anyone? Ever?”

The elder Shadowhunter actually rolled his eyes, a very Alec like expression. Turning to the High Warlock, he informed him “Your presence, or, for that matter, the presence of any Downworlder, in this Institute, is no longer welcome in this time of crises.”

“Now hold on…” Luke started, taking a step forward. 

“You can’t do that!” Simon protested. Though he looked to Jace for some sort of back up.

“He’s right.” Luke said. “Alec named Jace as acting Head of the New York Institute while he was away. Unless you’re here to dismiss a Herondale of his charge, only Jace can kick us out.”

Robert huffed. Then turned to look expectantly at Jace. 

Jace suddenly felt stunted. He had always been a better soldier than leader. Alec only put him in charge while he was gone because he knew his name kept the greedy politicians at bay and their council with the Downworlders kept the peace. To make any real decision, any life altering decision… But then again, what was there to decide: Robert was ordering them to abandon Alec to the Clave’s attentions. That wasn’t a decision. That was simply incomprehensible! 

“They stay!” Jace growled at his adopted father. Squaring his shoulders, he stepped around the man and into the command center. “What’s happening?” he asked.

Robert’s jaw stiffened, his chin raised, his eyes hardened as they flickered to Izzy, a silent command.

But Izzy’s own determined look knocked down any hope for obedience. She hurried passed him to take over a console. “There’s… reports…. Nothing seems confirmed yet…. Of attacks around the city.” She explained after a moment at the keyboard. 

“Attacks on who?” Luke wanted to know.

Izzy frowned. “Mundanes…. Four Lycan attacks on mundanes.”

“Lycans?” Luke repeated in disbelief. “Where?” He was already pulling his phone from his pocket. 

“Linden Street, St. Charles Church, and the other two near Battery Park….” Izzy paused. She looked back at Luke. “Heading in the direction of the Jade Wolf.”

Luke’s eyes widened in concern. “Any word on another pack moving into the area?” he wondered. 

“Really, Lucian?” Robert huffed. “There is no other pack! Your hounds have slipped their leash while you were busy playing at past glory, pretending to be a Shadowhunter again!”

“Father!” Izzy cried, spinning on him, almost hoping to see some sign of demon possession or mind control or… something!... How else could he be so cruel?!

Despite the verbal attack, Luke looked unmoved. Standing tall, Luke answered in a steady, calm voice: “I forgive your accusation, Robert. I’m sure you’re just worried about your son… Alec…. We all are.” He turned to Jace. “I’m going to the Jade Wolf. If it is another pack, their making a challenge for territory.”

“Timing’s awfully coincidental.” Magnus pointed out with a raised eyebrow. “Perhaps I should accompany…”

“Actually…” Simon spoke up, holding his own phone. “I could use some help. Something’s happened at the hotel.”

“Something?” Jace repeated with a glare at the young vampire. When no further information came along, he prodded none too gently “Something WHAT, Simon? What is happening at the hotel? What can happen? It’s in the middle of the day! Shouldn’t all the fangs be tucked away in their coffins?”

“I don’t know!” Simon squeaked. “It was Jules! He said there was an attack… that someone was blowing holes in the west wall and a bunch of our guys got burned pretty bad.”

“It is no secret the animosity between werewolves and vampires.” Robert noted.

“Damn it.” Jace growled. “Izzy, go with Simon and Magnus. Clary and I’ll go with Luke.” He glanced around to give directions to whoever was left, but the room was nearly empty. “Where the hell is everyone?!”

“Recalled, gone home, took a leave of absence.” Robert explained. He finally had the attention of his two Shadowhunters then.

“Gone?” Izzy shook her head. “Why would they leave? Who recalled them?”

“Their families, themselves, and others.” The father crossed his arms over his chest. “The New York Institute has the distinction of being a hub of the world. We have Shadowhunters stationed here from around the world… like Europe’s many Order friendly regions.”

Magnus chuckled, a sound completely void of amusement. “They’re afraid of the Order van Helsing. The fearless Shadowhunters abandons their charge in the face of a few Mundanes…. Abandoned Alexander!” 

“I!” Jace snapped. “Have not abandoned Alec!”

“And neither have the Clave!” Robert was quick to defend. “As I have said: They are negotiating….”

“Fuck their negotiations!” Magnus roared, his eyes flickering in color and shape, before he spun about to face the wall. Fists tightened as the Warlock struggled for a moment to control himself.

It was Luke’s always calm voice that spoke next. “None of us are abandoning Alec, Magnus.” He looked to Jace, then Izzy, and even Robert, offering each his assurance. “We will get him back! But we need to make sure there is a city to bring him back to.” 

“Kinda funny all hell breaking loose now.” Simon mumbled. When all eyes fell on him, he snapped his mouth shut and started to examine to floor in great detail.

Jace sighed. “WHY, Simon, is it so funny?” 

Simon shrugged. “Not like haha funny. More like unlikely coincidence funny.”

“Get to the point, Simon.” Luke encouraged.

The boy shrugged again. “I mean… if I wanted to move in and take over a town… like overthrow the current ruling class…” he half waved a hand at the Shadowhunters, “wouldn’t the first steps be sowing the oats of discontent? I mean… why would anyone need saviors if there was nothing to save them from?”

The room was suddenly silent. Even the alarms seemed to pause in consideration.

“Order van Helsing is doing this?” Luke was the first to speak.

“Don’t be ridiculas!” Robert protested. “What could they possibly gain?”

“Destroying the one thing this city, under Alexander’s lead, has that, ultimately, will be the greatest threat to their power.” Magnus answered, turning to face them again. “Equality, co-existence, acceptance, cooperation…. The building blocks of a lasting peace!”

“And that’s why they took Alec.” Izzy concluded.

Magnus’s jaw trembled as he growled out “Best way to destroy a dream is to destroy the dreamer.”

“Not on my watch!” Jace answered. “Izzy, get going! Help the Vampires. I’ll help the Werewolves. And pass it along: this city will not fall! We will stand and protect it! Every Mundane, Shadowhunter, and Downworlder!” 

~~~~~

A ship!

He could tell now.   
He was certain of it!  
He had closed his eyes, burying his head under his arms against the cold steal of the floor. He had concentrated, sought out something, anything! Just one thing that he focused on so completely it drowned out the piercing whistle, the flashes of light and heat, blackness and ice.

The world had an ever so slight rock to it.  
Rhythmic, yet not precise enough to be engineered.

Must be a large ship. Else the rocking would be more pronounced. Not that he knew a lot about ships, but weren’t larger ships steadier than little ones? Yes, he was sure of it!

Besides, wasn’t a new idea to hide a Shadowhunter on a ship out at sea where they couldn’t be tracked. Same thing was done to Jace…

Instinctively, Alec’s hand caressed his Parabatai rune, as if he his soul brother was right there with him.

With gritted teeth, he pressed his forehead to the cold steel.

Focus!   
Rocking!  
Ship!  
Big Ship!  
Footsteps! 

Despite soft soled shoes, slippers really, the woman’s approach made just enough disturbance over the surface of the steel that a face pressed to it could tell, without the use of eyes, exactly where her foot set…  
Which foot held the most weight…  
Which ankle to grab at just the right moment…..

With angel grace, Alec was moving, hand snapping out, whipping her weighted foot out from under her. As she fell, he rose, spinning about behind her, one arm snatching her tiny wrist. With practiced ease, he pulled her arm up her back, pinning it at the end of reach. His free hand grabbed her by the back of the neck, forcing her forward, while raising the captured wrist even higher until he heard her gasp.

Only then did the Shadowhunter stop, holding his position and his hostage in such rigid tension both were ready to snap. Sharp eyes rose to see the doorway for the first time and the two robed men standing there. 

“Move!” he commanded. “Or I’ll rip her arm from her body!”

Neither man moved or, even, looked in the least bit concerned.

Alec jerked on her arm, forcing another gasp from her. “MOVE!” He roared.

Still no response.

Alec was beginning to feel his heart pick up pace. This was not going as it should.

Then she spoke: “They will not move.” Despite the tremble in her voice, the only note of her pain, her tone was controlled, her words calm. “I am Karolina Cyprian, Knight of the Order van Helsing, your Purifier. They know that I would willing die in service to our Lord and the Purity of His Most Favored Children, that which is Mankind.”

“Saying and doing are two different…” Alec started to warn, but suddenly she was falling.

Karolina folded herself forward, twisting around until her own shoulder made a wet, ugly pop sound. Gritting her teeth, her free hand came around, slamming palm flat against his chest, throwing him back with a force that took Alec completely by surprise.

Losing his hold on her, the Shadowhunter stumbled back against the wall. But he had been too well trained to let one surprise steal his fight. Shoving away from the wall almost as soon as he touched it, Alec lunged forward, knocking the woman aside as if she was nothing more than a feather. With a spinning kick, he sent one of the robed figures slamming back and out of sight. 

The other tensed for a confrontation. 

“Hold!” Karolina commanded. “See him not harmed!”

The man stepped back, barely dodging a flying fist. 

Alec pressed his attack, sending a left at the man’s right shoulder.

He twisted to avoid the attack, but as Alec predicted, exposed his left side.

The Shadowhunter’s round house kick took him in the back of his left shoulder, slamming him face first into the wall.

The path was clear!

Alexander Lightwood dove through the doorway and out into a hall. A glance to his left showed him a downward staircase, to his right a hall that ended in upward stairs.

He turned right.

But Alec barely made it half way down the hall before he skidded to a halt, nearly tripping over a new obstacle.

The tiny Warlock….  
…he had to be a Warlock with those scaly cheek bones, opalescent skin tone…  
…. Stared up at him with huge, round eyes and long lashes. Just a kid, maybe Madzie’s age! Nothing to him but skin and bones in a loose sack like gown and a steel collar….

Collar?  
Collar!

“You pity the creature.” Came that calm, collected voice behind him. “Here, before you, stands the most vile of contamination of the Purity of Mankind! A creature you were sworn to grind out of existence! And, yet, you will not remove it from your path? It was easier for you to attack those of Mankind than it is to strike down this vermin?”

Alec stiffened. He knew he wasn’t escaping. Even if he had made it up the steps, made it to deck, even made it to the water… her very tone told him he was not escaping.

Particularly if it meant harming this kid to do so.

He turned to face her.

The woman seemed unscathed if not for the arm dangling uselessly at her side. Her two men stood on either side of her, waiting for command. His hesitation had given them all the time in the world to recover.

But it wasn’t his own situation that had rage boiling in the pit of his gut. “You call him vile? He’s a kid! You’re the one that snapped a collar around his neck! What? Made him your slave? Your pet?! A KID!” A waved a hand back at the little boy. “What could he have possibly done to you to warrant… that?!”

Karolina took a step forward. “You are about to find out.” She answered softly.

Alec frowned.

An electric snap sounded behind him.

Suddenly every muscle in his body went absolutely rigid. Then the world was tilting and swirling and falling….

When the world came into focus again, Alec found himself on his back, staring up at the ceiling. Straps cut across his forehead and his arms and legs, immobilizing him. He could move his eyes to see Karolina, arm in a sling, standing at his head. Adjusting his eyes again, he could see the little Warlock standing beside him, his little hands hovering over his side, over his…   
His healing rune?  
Was he trying to activate his rune?

A warm sensation began to spread from the rune, almost as if he had activated it. But then the warmth became heat, and then the heat began to burn.

Alec hissed.

Karolina leaned over him and explained “We begin your Cleansing. We shall Purify your body of these marks of damnation.” She gazed down at his body where Alec was pretty sure his skin was bubbling in the heat. “The creature fills every cell of the tainted flesh and soul with an explosive amount of magical energy siphoned straight from Hell, itself. This energy wars and rejects that of the Angel so that, when the skin overflows with it, one simple trigger ignites the combination, taring the taint right from both flesh and soul. Left behind will be a clean pallet to which a righteous and purified being can come to surface.” She reached out a long, slender finger and tapped Alec’s chest. “We will do this one rune at a time until your true being lays before us, naked and exposed, untainted and as pure as your kind can possibly be. It will be a painful process, a true trial of spirit. But one of which will see you stronger and truer than ever before. Stay the path, Alexander Lightwood, and I will see you to salvation on the other side.”

Alec gritted his teeth. He squeezed his eyes closed, trying his best not to picture actual flames dancing across his skin…  
As flesh darkened….  
Little hairs twist and shrivel…  
Skin blistering and bursting…..  
Blood burning black and filling the air with a stench….

“By the Angel!” Alec cried out.

“Now.” Karolina whispered in his ear.

A light reached down and touched the center of the flame. 

The explosion ripped through him as if a super nova had been ignited against his skin. The scream torn from his throat was drowned out by the rushing of blood through his ears. His eyes burned in their sockets by the white heat from within his own skull. Each of his joints popping as his entire being snapped as if struck by lightening.

And then…  
Everything…..  
Was simply…….  
Gone!

~~~~~~~


	5. Chapter Four

==========  
Chapter Four  
==========

The portal opened up on the roof of the Dumort Hotel. 

Isabella Lightwood stepped through and right to the edge of the roof. She looked straight down at the scene below. 

Three hooded figures.   
The ones to the left and right larger and a step or two behind the third, smaller figure. The third was casting, a hand stretched out, sending flecks of light swirling toward the sunny side of the hotel.  
Warlock!  
And the other two… they stood straight, one hand hidden beneath robes, the other held loosely at side, ready to move in whatever direction it needed to go quickly. Their heads moved just enough to show that they were watching the doors and windows and streets around them, watching for threat.   
Warriors!

“Careful, Izzy.” Simon warned, lingering just a step from the edge, still not completely trustful of him immortality.

Izzy smirked, though she kept her eyes on those below. “Afraid of heights, Daylighter?” she teased. 

“I wouldn’t say afraid.” Simon protested. “Not comfortable, sure. It’s a stomach thing, you know. Dizzy, cold sweats, pounding heart…”

“You’re heart no longer pounds, Simon.” Magnus pointed out. “In fact, it no longer beats.”

Izzy turned then, all grins and mischief. “Besides, sounds more like falling in love, than fear.” She observed. “Well, if such a great height inspires such a plunge….” She spread her arms out wide. “Catch me if you can!” And she jumped back and off the edge of the roof.

“Izzy!” Simon cried, rushing forward and dropping to the edge to peer over.

The Shadowhunter was as graceful as an angel and the envy of any gold winning Olympic high diver. Back arched, she dove, long and elegant….   
Sixth story…   
Fifth story….   
Fourth…   
Third….   
A delegate hand grasped a light pole at the two story mark, legs swinging forward and spinning her up and around the arm of the pole. On the up swing, she released her hold and flew through the air to land, like a cat, on her feet. In a crouch, one hand on the ground, bracing herself, the other flung back, gold whip uncoiling and snapping almost as if announcing the arrival of Shadowhunter Isabella Lightwood!

“Well… THAT was exhilarating!” Magnus observed as he leaned over the edge beside Simon. He played with the rings on one hand and looked expectantly at the vampire.

Simon’s eyes went big. “What? I mean, really? What do these people have against stairs?! It’s cardio! Good for the body!”

The two robed warriors turned to face Izzy. From beneath their robes they produced their sacred weapons: one a pike, the other a shotgun.

“What the hell? A shotgun? Who the hell brings a shotgun to an angel fight?” Simon cried.

“Simon, help her! Those are Knights of the Order!” Magnus suddenly turned so very serious. “I will block the Warlock and shield the Dumort.” He was already waving his arms through the air and closing his eyes in preparation of spell casting.

Simon groaned. “I really, really hate my life… or lack of…” With a sigh, he closed his eyes and stepped off the ledge.

Izzy spun, whip slicing through the air around her. Her movement was beautiful, much like an exotic ribbon dancer…. if not for the deadly intent of both dancer and ribbon.

The golden ribbon snapped out, slicing through the very air, intent on wrapping its coils around that shotgun and taking it out of the game right off the bat.

But it didn’t wrap around the barrel of a gun. 

It was the second figure who stepped between intended target and whip, bringing his pike up and twisting it just as the whip made contact. The hook of his weapon grabbed at the ribbon and, with a quick and powerful jerk, pulled Izzy off balance and nearly to one knee.

Startled be the unexpected turn, Izzy tried to call her whip back, but the hook of the pike kept it bound as if it had its own fingers tightly wound around the gold cord. 

Another yank and Izzy found herself being dragged toward the robed figures, the shotgun being aimed right at her.

Simon landed between them with an explosion of energy, sending all those around him and a nearby parked car flying back and through the air. With vampire reflexes, Simon went on the run, nearly flying back to catch Izzy before she struck anything that could do any damage.

Gasping, the Shadowhunter grasped at her savior, squeezing eyes closed against the pounding in her chest.

“Izzy, you okay?” Simon hurriedly asked. “Did I hurt you?”

The girl found enough air to chuckle. She smiled up at him. “Would you look at that. You caught me!” she teased.

Simon stared at her. Then his jaw started working out a lot of “uh” and “Oh, I mean…”

Izzy laughed. Rolling out of his arms, she turned her attention back to the robed figures. 

They were gone.  
A car was leaning against a light post, a pot hole marked Simon’s landing, dust floated all about, cries could be heard from inside the hotel…  
But the street was empty!

The three figures were gone.

“Where’d they go?” the vampire wondered.

Isabella Lightwood cast her eyes about wearily. “Get inside, Simon. See to your people.” She ordered as she backed toward the door, pausing just long enough to retrieve her whip from where it had landed on the ground. “Let’s see what damage has been done.”

~~~~~

The Daylighter peered through the hole and out into the mid-day light. “You ever played with steely marbles as a kid?” Simon wondered to whoever was paying attention to him. “When I was a kid, they outlawed steely marbles at school because there were these holes in all the windows.” He looked back at the other occupants of the room and waved a hand at the wall. “Looks like the middle school steely champions declared war on this joint.” 

“Very observant of you.” Raphael grumbled with rolled eyes. He looked up at Magnus who was standing behind him, running healing hand over the last of the vampire’s burns. “Really?”

Magnus smiled. “Simon, do, please, get those holes covered up.”

Simon shrugged. Snatching a panel of wood and a hammer, he wondered “A good Jewish boy dies, murdered by evil doers, only to rise from the dead as a carpenter. Sure King James is screeching about plagiarism just about now.” 

“Not what is in the bible!” Raphael growled, his Catholic upbringing finding offence in that. Of course, since he was awoken by sunlight and screams, most things were offending him. 

“Lay off, Ralph.” Izzy advised as she entered the room. “You called him, remember?”

“Who else was I supposed to call?” the vampire demanded. “Should I have expected the Shadowhunters to protect us against van Helsing?”

The Shadowhunter paused and looked at him with a raised eyebrow, arms crossed over her chest,

“A Shadowhunter did protect you from the Order.” Magnus pointed out. 

Raphael had the good decency to look embarrassed. “Isabella is different! Alexander is different!” he quickly explained. “They brought this city together, protected us, treated us with respect, equality…” He shook his head. “They are… unique among their kind.”

“Ah.” Izzy purred. “He thinks I’m unique.”

Magnus smiled. “As you are.” He agreed. But then he sighed. “More so than you may know. The reaction may have been different in some parts of Europe. From your own House if you had not been the one to answer the call.”

“Point in detail: I answered the call.” Simon paused in his hammering to make note. 

“I’m almost regretting that…” Raphael grumbled. But then he looked up at the High Warlock. “What of the Warlock?” 

“Yea, I was wondering about that little guy too.” Simon admitted, turning and leaning against the wall. “I thought the Order didn’t like Downworlders.”

“You don’t have to like someone to enslave them.” Magnus pointed out.

Raphael barred his teeth at that. “They enslave Downworlders? And the Clave allow this?” He turned accusing eyes on Izzy.

“Hey, I just learned about the Order when they took my brother, remember?” Izzy defended herself. “And the Clave does not allow for the enslavement of anyone! Downworlder or otherwise!” She hesitated before admitting “I don’t know why SOME Shadowhunters are losing their shit over them. I mean… by the Angel…”

“You’re Americans.” Simon was quick to offer. Having finished the wall, he returned to the group, adding “Kinda what we do. See something we think is wrong and huff and puff until we blow that house down.”

Izzy frowned. “What house?”

“Simon is largely right.” Magnus waved a hand at the young vampire. “However, separated from the Mundanes and the politics of their day to day lives, we are all, none the less, effected by their culture. You each have a strong since of individuality, equality, freedom… Europe and Asia are centuries, even millenniums, older. Their legends and superstitions are so embedded into the very fabric of their societies…”

“And topped that off with a massive Cristian influence.” Simon threw in. “Anyone remember the Hundred Year War?”

“Yes, I do.” Magnus mumbled, and he did not look to please be the memory. “It was the time the Order van Helsing was coming into their power. Warlocks and Mundanes, even the occasional Shadowhunter, were being murdered in the most horrific ways just to prove whether or not they were witches! I lost many dear friends to those days of fire and brimstone.” The Warlock closed his eyes and shuddered. 

“Is that why you know so much about the Order?” Izzy wondered.

Collecting himself, Magnus looked at her with a sad smile. “If only that had been the beginning and end of my association with them. But, alas…” he waved a hand in the air and images danced in the swirling blue magic.

An Indian woman with six arms, an arrow through each hand, pinning her to a wall, while a Friar looking man grabbed a hand full of hair with one hand and slammed a dagger through her eye with the other…  
Four, huge men covered in what fur from head to toe, running through the snow high in some mountain range, bullets cutting through the air around them, one going down, then another. The last two dropped to the ground, trying to surrender, only for a hooded figure to toss a flaming torch onto each, igniting their fur in a huge, screaming fire ball…  
Samurais being forced to their knees, their top knots being cut from their heads, their vampiric teeth pride from their jaws before being staked out to the ground just in time for the dawn…  
A whaling ship aiming its huge, deadly harpoon at a pleading man bobbing in the sea, shielding a woman and child, all with the same dolphin like tail….  
World War One Italian officer with a red crussfix on his chest, shaving the head of a woman in tears, revealing her large, fan like ears…  
Nazis making why for a clergy man as he marched up to a line of civilians, dirty, starved, most wearing yellow stars, pointing to a group who were then lead, screaming and crying, to those stone buildings with the constantly smoking chimneys…  
A werewolf pack, bloodied, backing toward a cliff, trying to protect each other as the woods burned around them, and a larger, stronger pack with spiked collars, commanded by men in camouflage with rifles forced them back, one by one falling from the cliff to their deaths…

“Enough. We get it.” Isabella turned away from brutal scene after brutal scene. Her stomach turned with the horror of it all.

Pale even for a vampire, Simon stared at the empty space the images had vanished from. “My… gamma’s family went to those…” He couldn’t breath all of a sudden.

Raphael stepped up to the younger vampire and set a comforting hand on his shoulder. There were no words to offer, but at least he could share the boy’s grief.

“Where were we?” Izzy whispered. When she couldn’t think of an answer, she turned back around to demand of Magnus “Where were the Shadowhunters?!”

Magnus shrugged. “It was a different time, Isabella. The Clave was a very different creature when this had all started. War between our kinds were rampant, rampaging through the Mundanes as destructively as it tore at our own. When Mundanes began to rise up and fight back, the Shadowhunters were actually proud of them… Like seeing your little brother grow up to follow in your footsteps.” 

“But they didn’t stop there.” Raphael concluded.

“No, they did not.” Magnus took a deep breath and spread his hands. “The Clave came to a time of reason, when they wanted less death, and more peace. As did the Downworlders. A peace, turbulent it might have been, was formed. Yes, under the boot heal of the Shandowhunters, but a peace that continued to evolve into what we have to day… and still, with examples such us our sweet Alexander and beautiful Isabella, continues to evolve toward better futures.” He sadly shook his head. “The Order, though, choose a different path. They believe the only way to protect their kind is the obliteration of all those they see as to contaminate it.”

“Prejudice at its finest.” Simon mumbled. “It’s sad, really. I can’t even be really angry at them, it’s all too sad. They’d deny themselves so much by hating so much…”

Raphael huffed at the innocence of the child.

Magnus smiled fondly at him. “You, Daylighter, will be a pleasure to watch and grow in the years to come.”

“If he survives tomorrow and the next day.” Raphael grumbled. It scared him how so many of his people so willingly called this newborn their leader, even messiah for the simple reason he could stand the sun.  
Simple!  
If it was so simple, why didn’t Simon share the secret? If he was the leader that would lead their people into a better future, why couldn’t he lead them into the light?  
Still… every now and again the kid spoke and even the skeptical Raphael wanted to blindly follow.

“So?” Izzy pressed. “Why haven’t the Clave put a stop to them?”

Magnus shrugged. “As I said, many parts of the world are still so clenched in the grips of past wrongs, that the Order was welcomed in. Mundanes have always outnumbered the Shadowhunters and the Downworlders. When they gather under a like fear, they are a force that have bowed even the mighty Clave. Yes, in many cases the Shadowhunters have backed out of a region because they simply weren’t able to, by themselves, get a warring clan or pack under control. The Order could and did. In other areas, the local Institute and Order have an uneasy alliance. They believe that, as long as they are fighting toward the same goal, the taint of the Shadowhunter blood can be overlooked… after all, it’s Angel, not Demon.”

“Taint? By an Angel?” Izzy exclaimed.

“Not pure mankind, thus, yes, tainted.” The Warlock explained. “And then there are the excommunicated Shadowhunters who have joined their ranks. Stripped of their Runes, purified so to speak, they have become like second class citizens of the Order. Their Angel blood still gives them advantages over the Mundanes, even without the Runes, and they are considered elite warriors among their ranks, but, second class none the less.”

“And the slaves?” 

“They’ve been known to take very young Warlocks and werewolves and raise them as living weapons. At least until they become too powerful to control. Then they put them down like a rabid dog.” Magnus spat the last, bad memories resurfacing.

Izzy understood. “Someone you knew?”

“Too many I tried to save and failed.” Magnus admitted.

“But not vampires?” Raphael asked.

The Warlock shook his head. “You are as you were when you died. You can’t be raised nor controlled like a child can be.”

“So, if they have all of Europe and Asia,” Simon wanted to know, “why come here?”

“Because of Alexander.” Magnus dropped into a couch with a shuddering breath.

“Alec was uniting the Downworlders and Shadowhunters.” Izzy explained further, figuring it out. “Instead of getting weaker and fading away, together, we were getting stronger, more influential. Institutes from around the States, North America, Central, even South America has been contacting us, wanting to know how to put together a council, how to promote cooperation in their own cities.”

“Thanks to my Alexander’s efforts, New York has become an example of what peace and unity can achieve.” Magnus continued. “Something the Order can not allow to spread.”

“Well, they just can’t kill him.” Simon protested. “That’d make him a symbol, a bigger reason to get band together and fight back!”

“So, what are they doing to him?” Izzy wondered, her tone taking on a quiver of fear for her brother.

Magnus Bane closed his eyes tight. “Nothing at all good, of that I am sure of.”

~~~~~~~

Courage and then Calm were next to be ignited, leaving his back in ruins.

When next Alec could open his eyes, he was back in his tiny cell with the cold floor and flickering blazing sun/icy abyss. 

He couldn’t move.  
He couldn’t breathe.  
He couldn’t even whimper.

Every inch of his skin was both enflamed and frozen stiff and brittle. His throat was on fire, and his eyes burned, hot tears cutting a path down icy cheeks like lave through snow.

Why? His brain screamed, his skull responding like an echo chamber.  
Why?  
Why?  
Why?  
Why didn’t they just kill him?  
Let him die?  
Fade away?  
Why were they taking him apart, piece by piece by piece by piece…  
Why?  
Why hadn’t Jace saved him?

A groan sounded deep within his gut, but didn’t have the courage to reach the outside world.

Courage?  
It was gone!  
Calm?  
He had none!  
Healing?  
No more!

He was a frightened, panicking, hurt, little boy, curled up on the floor, praying for his Parabatai to make it all go away.

A shadow of a Shadowhunter waiting for the Angel’s true warriors to come and save the day….

“DAMN! YOU!” Alec managed to ground out through clenched teeth. Strength of pure will, he forced his hands down, palms flat against the floor. His muscles screamed as he pushed, pushed so hard he thought his arms would shatter.   
But they didn’t.  
They pushed him up, up on to bare knees, red with cold burn. Upright, entire body protesting with pains and agony, Alec held his chin up, ignoring the flashing of light. He glared at the where he thought the door was and he damned everything and everyone behind it, before swallowing enough to find his voice.

“I am Alexander Lightwood! Shadowhunter! Head of the New York Institute! Warrior blessed by the Blood of the Angel Raziel! I! AM! A! FUCKING! NELPHILM! YOU! FUCKING! ASSHOLES!” he ended in a roar that tore his already raw throat bloody. He gasped for breath, the flashes of icy abyss actually relieving some of the burning.

After several gasps, Alec forced his head up again and hissed at the walls “You want to break me, you’re gonna have to do a hell of a lot worse than that!”

On the other side of the wall to his left, watching him through an enchanted mirror, Hubert van Liege raised one eye brow. He turned his head to peer at his underling and asked “And can we?”

Karolina Cyprian stood the picture of poise and fortitude, her chin up, her eyes bright, the corner of her lips turned up in just the slightest of smiles. “Oh, yes, my Captain, we most certainly can.” She assured. “To save his soul, I will do a lot worse….”

==========


	6. Chapter Five

==========  
Chapter Five  
==========

Jace watched the harbor as they drove pass.   
He hated the water.  
So big.  
So lonely.  
So pitiless.  
So…. So isolating!

Out there a Shadowhunter was on his own, lost and alone, detached even from his own Parabatai.   
He should know.   
Been there, done that, not a fond memory.

“Jace?” Clary set a hand on his shoulder, making him jump a little. “Hey, it’s okay.” she soothed. Leaning forward from the back seat, she rubbed her hand up and down his arm. “He’s going to be alright.” 

Jace stared at her for a moment, locked in those green eyes that seemed to know everything going on in his head, in his heart. He took a deep breath. “Yea.” he mumbled, before turning back to the window.

“She’s right.” Luke offered. “Alec is strong, resilient….”

“I know what he is!” Jace snapped. He didn’t need to hear Clary’s hiss to regret it. Sighing, he looked up at the driver. He almost said sorry, but Luke gave him that side ways look like he already knew.

Damn it, how come everyone could read him like a damn book? Headlines printed across his forehead, flip him over for the continued story!

Again, Jace sighed. “I know he’s strong. But he’s not tough, not… hard. Like me. Like Izzy.” He shook his head. “He won’t break, no matter what anyone does to him. But that won’t stop him from feeling like he had.” He gazed up at Luke again. “You know what I mean?”

The long-ago Shadowhunter turned werewolf knew exactly what he meant. “Sometimes he cares too much. He carries too much on his shoulders. Forgets to share the load.” Luke glanced at him. “Don’t carry too much yourself, Shadowhunter. Remember: you’re not alone in this.” 

Again, Clary’s hand came to rest on his shoulder. “You’re not as hard as you think either.” she whispered in his ear.

“I have to be!” Jace insisted. “What he needs, what Alec needs… I have to be!” He turned back to the harbor and that endless damnable water. “Even if I can’t sense him, maybe he can sense me.” The last was a hopeful murmur. “He’s gotta be out there… out on the water… that’s why I can’t find him. He’s out there, alone, like I was….” 

Clary exchanged a worried look with Luke. 

“Jace….” Luke started.

A fiery explosion sent a small, drydocked fishing boat spinning through the air and straight for them.

“Get down!” Luke yelled, slamming on the brakes and spinning the wheel, sending the truck skidding off to the side as the boat skinned off the left side mirror as if flew pass. 

Cary let out a cry, ducking down.

Even before the truck had completely stopped, Jace was leaping out the door, and was running around the corner toward the source of the explosion.

“Jace!” Clary cried. She slid across the seat and followed.

“Clary! Damnit, Jace! Wait!” Luke yelled after them, but they were already gone. “Damn kids!” he growled as he struggled with his door. Giving up, he slid out the passenger door Jace had left open. 

Mysti’s scorpion tail stabbed at the dancing man, her fingers swirling, tangling his whip up in strings of magic. 

Hansel laughed. He dodged almost with the grace of an Angel, almost like a Shadowhunter, his robes snapping with each jump. It was almost like he was toying with the young Warlock.

But then his partner shouted a warning “’ow bloods!”

Suddenly he wasn’t playing any longer. When her tail stabbed down again, he spun to one side, his free hand snapping out and grabbing it just above her stinger. With another spin, snapping the tail after, he whipped the girl around and off balance.

Mysti fell to one knee, then was jerked again, twisting her about on her hip. 

The whip came down, snapping around her wrist as she held up a hand to fend it off.

The sharp metal cut deep, slicing into delegate flesh, pulling a scream from the Warlock.

Then Jace was there, grabbing the end of the whip with one hand and slicing through it with a glowing blade. As quickly as he was there, he was gone, leaping through the air at the girl’s attacker, his Angel blade cutting a path straight for the robed man’s figure.

“Maia!” Luke yelled as he came on the scene. As soon as he saw his fallen pack, his eyes glowed. Even before thoughts could be formed, his body was responding to the threat, bones reforming, fangs growing, skin stretching.

But then the woman turned toward him, the device in her hand aimed in his direction.

And the world screamed in his head. His transformation stalled like a skipping record, holding him in a repeating pattern of agonizing mid-change. Seizing, he fell to the ground, his eyes rolling up in his skull.

Clary threw herself at the woman with a wild screech. A kick sent the device skidding across the ground, while she aimed a dagger strike at her chest. 

Gretel was an experienced warrior and easily dodged the stab. Then she was striking back, her hammer swinging from above, looping about to come down from the other side. “’e ‘ounds are loose!” she yelled to her partner, as her swings pushed Clary back. “e away!”

“Damnable!” growled Hansel. With a snap of the wrist, he cracked Mysti’s tail, relishing the scream it tore from her. Then he was turning and running just barely missing another deadly blow from Jace’s weapon. He ran straight for Clary, slamming her into the ground.

Gretel, free of her opponent, also turned and ran.

Hansel had slowed just a step though, in freeing his partner. The glowing tip of Jace’s sword pushed out through the front of his chest. The man stumbled. He made it another two steps, before his legs folded under him and he fell to the ground.

Gretel never hesitated. She threw a vile, smashing it on the ground in front of her, releasing a swirling hole of color and wind.

“A portal!” Mysti cried. “She’s getting away!”

Jace leaped over the fallen Hansel, yanking his sword free as he went. He charged the woman, but she was already stepping through.

“NO!” he yelled, reaching for her.

“Jace!” Clary snatched him back just before the portal snapped shut, nearly taking Jace’s fingers with it.

Jerking away from her, the enraged Shadowhunter spun about, searching for someone else he could stab, could beat, could make pay for this…. For all of this! When he saw none, he had to settle for a wordless roar at the sky.

“Jace!” Clary managed to shout loud enough for him to finally pay attention. 

The young Shadowhunter spun about to face her, his chest heaving, his eyes big and wild.

But his Clary stood before him, her red hair flowing about her, her own eyes wide with fear.  
Not fear of the fight.  
Not even fear for the meaning behind the fight.  
It was fear for him, about him, even, maybe, a little of him.

Jace’s breath caught. Swallowing his rage, he forced his body still. Squeezing his eyes closed, he forced his whole world to just slow down a moment. When he opened his eyes again, he was back: calm, cool, in charge….

“Clary.” He breathed. Then, with a stronger tone, he asked “Are you hurt?”

Clary shook her head. “Are you?”

Jace ignored the question, glancing around. “The wolves?”

As if suddenly remembering they weren’t alone, the girl actually squeaked. Spinning about, she looked for her foster father. “Luke!” She started to take a step to where he knelt on the ground, face in hands.

But the alpha held up a hand. “I’m fine.” He growled. “My pack…”

Clary spun about again and went to the task of checking the fallen wolves.

Jace turned his attention to the young Warlock who sat on the ground a few feet away, cradling her broken tail. He crouched down beside her. “It’s… um…. Mysti, right?”

She turned tearful eyes up at him and sniffed. Giving a nod, she wiped her nose of the back of her arm.

He was suddenly wondering just how old was she. Jace looked down at the long, deadly looking tail and concluded old enough. “Are you injured badly? Your… tail?”

Mysti licked her lips. “It hurts…. But, I think Magnus can fix it.” She sniffed again before looking around. “I should help the others!” she concluded, holding up a hand, asking for help.

Jace smiled. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this new world.” He admitted, taking her arm and setting her on her feet.

Despite needing to sniff again, the girl gave him a hard look. “Well, get used to it, buddy! Times are a changing!” 

“Jace.” Luke called to him from where he stood over the fallen man. “He’s still alive.”

The Shadowhunter raised his sword again.

“Wait!” Mysti snapped, hurrying forward to put herself between her attacker and her savior. She glared back at Jace. “Don’t you kill him!” she warned.

Jace raised an eyebrow. “Really?” He huffed. “Why the hell not?”

“Humanitarian reasons!” Mysti cried. She held her head a little higher. “’sides, can’t question a corpse! Not to mention it’d really piss him off to know I saved his life!”

Jace turned two raised eyebrows on Luke.

The Alpha still looked unsteady on his feet, but he shrugged. “He might know where Alec is.” He suggested.

Now that Jace could not argue against. Looking at the girl again, he asked “Can you save him?”

This time Mysti huffed. Turning, she dropped to her knees beside the bleeding man. She held her hands above his wound.

“’et away ‘rom me, ‘itch!” Hansel coughed, making a weak attempt at swatting her away.

Jace was quick to move in, holding his hands down and out of the way.

Mysti looked down at him in disgust. “You have no problem laying hands on us in war. But let us touch you in peace and that horrifies you? You’re pathetic!” she spat. Still, she held her hands over his wound, closed her eyes, and called on her strongest power to save that pathetic man’s life.

~~~~~

When he blinked, the little Warlock was standing in front of him. Alec couldn’t help the flinch. Couldn’t help but feel guilty at flinching. 

Wasn’t the boy’s fault! They made him hurt Alec! Treated him like a dog! Less than a dog! Even a dog, a weapon, would have been polished and cared for, kept in peek condition!

The child standing before him had sunken eyes and painfully thin arms. Red veins laced his opalescent skin like the magic he channeled through his body left track marks, burning him as deeply as it burned Alec.

A new pain tightened around Alec’s chest as a new realization hit him: They were killing him! This poor, innocent child was being burned alive just to torture, to purify, him! 

All because of him!  
Because Alexander Lightwood had entered is short life!

He had to save him!  
He had to get him out of here!  
He had to get him to Magnus and his Warlocks! 

Magnus!  
Oh, Magnus….

The child reached out toward him, his fingertips sparking with red energy.

“Wait!” Alec choked.

The child hesitated.

Taking a shuddering breath, the Shadowhunter whispered “Do… do you have a name?” When the boy frowned, he asked “What do they call you?”

A tilt of the head, a flicker of the eyes, like he was glancing at someone Alec couldn’t see.

Of course, they were watching them!

Still….

“I know a little girl, a warlock… like you…. About the same age. Her name’s Madzie.” Alec was planning on gaining the kid’s trust, talking about his favorite little sorcerous, but just thinking about the happy little girl lifted his heart, breathed strength back into his soul.   
His Madzie!  
His Magnus!  
His Jace and his Izzy!  
Even his Clary and… well, Simon!  
His family!  
Straightening a little taller, Alec actually mustered a smile. “You don’t have to live like this. There are Warlocks here… Free Warlocks! You can find them! They will help you!” he encouraged. It wasn’t about saving himself any more. This little warlock deserved a chance! Deserved a life! Deserved…

Karolina pressed the muzzle of gun to the child’s head and pulled the trigger.

The explosion was deafening, ringing in his ears until he couldn’t tell if it had been the gun discharged or his own insane scream trapped inside his head. Blood and brain matter ejected across the kneeling Shadowhunter and the walls of his tiny cell. Tiny shards of skull ripped into his cheeks and chest, mixing his blood with that of the child’s. Blood dripped from his lips, he could taste it on his tongue. His eyes were misted by the red gore. 

And all Alec could do is kneel there, staring in opened mouth horror as the tiny form crumpled to the floor.

Karolina Cyprian, Knight of the Order van Helsing, Purifier, murderer of children, handed her weapon back to her henchman. “You are filthy.” She told her captive.

As if finally noticing her, Alec turned his eyes up to stare at her.

Alec Lightwood had seen the ugliest of demon kind: slithering, slimy, grotesque… But never had he seen anything as ugly as this creature before him: a creature of such hate it had rotted any beauty she might have once had. So comfortable with her intolerable form, she didn’t even look down at the grisly evidence of her deed.

Karolina crouched down, ignoring the blood that soaked into her long robe. “Alexander, I will Purify you.” She swore. “And the more you resist, the higher the price you will pay!”

All he could do was blink, blood dripping from his lashes like tears.

The beast rose up again. With a wave of her uninjured arm, she told her fellow creatures “He is filthy. See him cleaned.” With that, she stepped back out of the cell and out of sight.

In her place came a man with a fire hose.

Alec didn’t even try to hide from the sting of the high pressure, icy salt water as if hit him in the chest, slamming him back to the floor. 

In a way it was almost comforting.  
Almost welcoming.  
Under the spray of the hose, no one could see him cry.

~~~~~~


	7. Chapter Six

======  
Chapter Six  
======

Robert Lightwood stormed into the room. “What the hell have you done, Jace Herondale!” he roared, waving a hand at the window looking into the cell. 

Both Jace and Izzy actually flinched at the man’s rage. 

Robert looked at the window and the prisoner within.

Bandaged, though very much alive, Hansel sat, anchored down to the very same seat that had once held the fearsome Valentine. 

“What the hell is he doing here? In there? Like that?” Robert continued to rage.

“Hey!” Clary stepped up. “Calm down! He attacked the werewolves…”

“I am not speaking to you, Morgentien!” Robert growled, not even bothering to look at her.

Jace reacted to that. “You want to speak to us, you can speak to her too!” he snapped.

“She’s family!” Izzy backed him up.

Robert huffed. “This family has had enough of interlopers.” he grumbled, looking Jace up and down with contempt. 

Jace stared. He felt like he had been punched in the stomach. “What?” he managed to choke out. Even when his adopted mother had turned against him, he had never expected such from Robert.  
Not Robert!  
From the closest thing he ever had to a real father.   
The man who had sat next to his bed after a nightmare, assuring him he’d stand guard.   
The man who had walked into that all white waiting room, crouched down in front of him and asked “Jace, I am your godfather. Would you like to come home with me, be part of my family?”  
The man who had first spoken to him and Alec about what it meant to be Parabatai.

Alec!

Jace’s back stiffened, his shoulders squared, his chin raised. When he spoke his voice was deeper, stronger, steady. “What I did was take into custody a man who attacked the innocent Downworlders of our city. A member of an organization who has kidnapped a Shadowhunter… incase you have forgotten… forgotten along with the fact that it is our duty, our calling, to protect the citizens in our charge, whether they be Mundane, Werewolf, Vampire, Warlock, or anything else that happens along!”

“Innocent?!” Robert practically spat. “Mundanes were attacked by werewolves! The Order….” He waved almost violently at the prisoner. “Was investigating crimes!”

“Actually…” Izzy spoke up, a little hesitant to step up to her father. Still… “There is no evidence of any attacks. Even the reported victims can’t be found.”

“The Order assures me…”

“The Order!” Jace barked. “The Order took my Parabatai! Took your son!”

“I am quite aware of the perils Alexander is in!” Robert roared. “Even more so since you attacked one of their envoys!”

“Envoys?” Clary laughed at that. “Envoys don’t come bearing weapons that can only be used on the authoritarian force! Like buying a box of cop killers and swearing you don’t mean the police any harm.”

Izzy agreed “Those gas bombs only work on Nephilim! On Shadowhunters! If they mean us no harm, why did they even create such a weapon?”

“Could be purely defense…” Robert tried to defend.

“They’re afraid we’d attack them?” Clary huffed.

The elder Lightwood rolled his eyes in a very Alec manner. “You already have! Wounded him and kidnapped him in fact!” Again, he waved a hand at the prisoner.

“HE ATTACKED MAIA!” Clary raged herself.

“A werewolf!” Robert snapped back, finally taking a moment to throw her a glare. “A werewolf suspected of attacking mundanes!”

“Suspected!” Izzy protest. “Dad, I know Miai! We all know her! She’s a good kid.”

Robert turned on his own daughter. “Really?! You’re going to choose a werewolf over your own brother?” he snarled.

Izzy took an actual step back, looking as if he had slapped her. “Wh… what?”

“And you?” Robert turned on Jace. “Choose Downworlders over your own Parabatai?” 

Jace became even more ridged, every muscle so tight his jaw shook from the strain.

“And, you, Robert!” Lucas spoke sharply as he walked into the room as if he owned it. He came to stand in front of Robert, shielding Izzy and Jace from his glare. “Do you attack your own children for the likes of him? For the Order van Helsing?” he snarled, throwing an accusing finger at the prisoner. Despite his tone, when he looked at Robert his eyes were soft, his brow furrowed with concern. He stepped close to the man that was once his friend and his voice dropped “Even in the days of the Circle, you were never so prejudice. What happened?” 

Robert leaned even closer and hissed “Look around, Lucas? Do you see Alexander? THAT is what happened!” He stepped back, letting his voice raise so no one would miss it. “And my child… and Jace have not been attacked. They are being corrected! And now they will release this man…”

“I will not!” Jace ground out.

“By the Angel, Jace, I will not allow you to endanger my son…”

Jace gasped, hand dropping to his side.

Robert stopped. “What is it?”

“Jace?” Clary took a step toward him. 

Jace looked up at his adopted father with a look of confusion. “I… I don’t….. Ah!” he cried out, doubling up, his hands grabbing at his lower side. 

“Jace!” Lucas caught him before he hit the floor. 

“His Parabatai Rune!” Robert exclaimed, leaping to Lucas’ side and helping him lower Jace to the floor. “Easy, easy.” He actually cooed to his adopted son. “Let me see.” He pried Jace’s hands from his side so he could tug his shirt up.

“What’s going on?” Clary demanded. “What’s hurting him?” When the men didn’t answer, she looked over at Izzy. “What’s happening to him?!”

The Shadowhunter was staring down at Jace with huge, glistening eyes, her arms wrapped so tight around herself, her fingers were leaving marks on her arms. She was shaking her head ever so slightly as if denying what she was seeing.

“IZZY!” Clary snapped at her.

The girl’s head jerked up, her eyes finding Clary. “It’s… it’s Alec….” she whispered.

Luke held Jace, letting him burry his face in his side, muffling his cries. “I’ve got you, Jace. Hold on.” he encouraged, rocking him gently.

Jace’s Parabatai Rune was low on his side, just above his hip. Robert had managed to pull his shirt up enough to reveal the Rune. It was glowing an angry red as if it had been burned. 

Was being burned!

It pulsed even brighter…..

Jace arched his back, crying out again.

And then the rune faded, the glow dimming, until it looked the same as all his other Marks.

Jace laid in Luke’s arms, gasping for breathing, hands clutched around anything they could reach, which happened to have been the edges of Luke’s jacket.

“Okay.” Luke breathed after a moment, feeling the boy slowly relax against him. “Okay… it’s over…. I think.”

“Over?” Izzy whimpered.

“The Rune is still there.” Robert was quick to reassure her. “Alexander’s still alive.” He laid a hand on the rune, closing his eyes, and dropping his head as if to give thanks. 

“They’re…” Jace managed to gasp, but couldn’t quite get it out. He rolled free of Lucas to lay on his back on the floor. Taking a shuddering breath, he tried again, “They’re hurting him.” He blinked the tears from his eyes until he could see Robert clearly. “I’m going to fucking well kill every fucking one of them!” he snarled.

~~~~~

Hubert van Leige looked at his soldier with a look of disappointment. “That did not appear to go as planned.” He observed.

Karolina Cyprian was frowning. “The Parabatai Rune is much stronger, deeper, than the other Runes. The contamination runs straight through to his core. We called on so much energy, it burned right through this beast in one setting.” She looked back through the window to where the unconscious Shadowhunter was being thrown over a Knight’s shoulder for the trip back to his cell. The body of a young warlock with burned out eyes and pulsing blue veins was kicked to one side, out of the way. “We have never before seen such a rune, much less tried to cleanse it. Not only is it fed by the strength of two Nephilims, but one of the pairing is a Two Blood.” She paused for thought. “Though Alexander is weakening, showing progress… it is possible that the only way we will be able to cleanse him of the basphemy is to destroy the other side of its link.” 

“To… sever the anchor?” Hubert reworded. When Karolina gave a sharp nod, he rubbed his chin, considering. “You spoke of his progress?” Hubert asked.

Karolina again nodded. “He did not resist the last three times we have called for him, allowing all but the last four runes to be removed. Deflect, Promise, Angelic, and, of course, Parabatai. In fact, he has been just short of cooperating.”

Her commander continued to rub his chin in thought. After a moment, he told her “Our time line needs to be pushed forward.” 

She looked at him with a raised eyebrow, a silent question.

“Lanuis Dunstan has been taken by the Two Bloods while taking measure of the werewolves.”

Karolina raised the other eyebrow. “Indeed? Well.” She breathed deeply, looking back through the window at the now empty room. “Lessens the mystery of the strength of the Parabatiai Rune. If the Two Bloods are strong enough to take a Lanuis…” 

“Then they may be a bigger obstacle than originally considered. A bigger threat.” Van Leige nodded slightly. “If we are forced to deal with them before we have proper influence over Lightwood, then issues may become… complicated. Thus, we need to move faster. It is time to introduce our young guest to his Comfort.”

The woman almost flinched. To anyone else, the slight twitch of the eye wouldn’t have even been noticeable. 

But, to Hubert van Leige, it was a flag waving in the wind. “You have concerns?”

Karolina chose her words carefully. “I am a Purifier, my Captain. My focus is on the Purification of his soul and body. The introduction of a…. a Comforter…. It is a difficult moment for a Purifier. In many cases, one that we often find ourselves disapproving of.”

Hubert actually smiled. “Hope, sister.”

“Sir?”

The man gave a shrug. “Pain and fear are excellent at tearing down rotting walls and crumbling decrypted foundations, but it is hope that builds up from there.” He held up a finger. “Remember: we destroy only to save.”

She wasn’t convinced, yet he was her Captain and, thus, she would obey. “I shall see to the introduction of the Comforter at one.”

“Good.” Hubert turned to leave.

“But, sir.” When he stopped and looked back at her, Karolina asked “Without cutting that anchor…”

“I will see what can be accomplished on that front.” He assured. “It has always been our wish to see an end come to the Two Bloods. This finally gives us the excuse to kill Jace Herondale.”

~~~~~

Alexander pressed his head down on the cold floor. It was almost a relief feeling that ice steal away the heat from his body, cooling the burning pain that pulsed through his body, turning it into a dull ache. Even as his finger joints began to stiffen and throb, and his toes felt as if they had fallen off, he still welcomed the cold.   
Freezing to death was better than that fire that ripped pieces of him…  
Pieces…  
Marks…  
Runes…..  
Parabatai….

A sudden panic twisted in his gut.

Jerking to the side, falling on his back, Alec rolled up, so he could see his rune. He couldn’t hold back the sob when he saw it was still there, long and curled with cross bars: his Parabatai Rune, his link to Jace, his anchor, his brother…

It hadn’t worked!  
It had burned like nothing before!   
He had felt it rip through his being, shredding what he was…  
But it hadn’t worked!

“It didn’t work.”

Alec blinked, hearing his thoughts echo through his tiny cell. It took him a couple shuddering breaths to realize he had actually heard it, not just thought it.

His movement sluggish, Alec rolled back on his stomach. Hands braced on the floor, his elbows screaming in protest, his shoulders burning on their own, his back creaking, he lifted himself up just enough to look up.

Crouched a few feet from him was a man.

He wasn’t like any of the other mundanes who Alec had seen come to his cell to either drag him away or drag him back. There was nothing simple nor ordinary about him. Just starting with his manner of dress… soft brown trousers, pearl tunic with a v-neck that laid open half way down his chest, doe skin boots with soft, silent soles... so much more relaxed that the Purifier’s starched uniform. But it didn’t end there.   
Dark wavy hair, golden eyes, lean figure, flawless suntanned skin, and a staggering smile; this stranger was actually beautiful! 

Alec couldn’t help but stare.   
Was he really there?  
Or was he dreaming?  
Was he an aberration?  
Was he finally losing his mind?

“It didn’t work.” the man repeated, even his voice more song like than the guttural grunts mundanes tended to use. He nodded his perfect head toward him, waving a long-fingered hand at Alec’s side. “The Mark proved too strong. Parabatai Runes are rare indeed. I’ve never seen one on the flesh before.”

His words were beginning to register in Alec’s befumbled mind. He glanced down at his Rune again, resting a hand on it half in reassurance, half as if to protect it.

“Do not fret, Alexander. They do not blame you for the failure.” The man was quick to assure. “If anything, they take the blame themselves for not being better prepared for the possibility.” He flashed a brilliant smile. “In fact, they are quite please with your progress.” 

Alec didn’t know what to say. He let the words replay in his mind as he tried to make sense of it. Then the man produced something that instantly focused every pinpoint of his attention.

An apple.  
Green, crisp, with a stem and all!

The stranger held it out to him. “I understand it has been a few days since you have eaten.”

It has?  
How long?

His stomach didn’t just growl. It roared!

Alec started to reach for it, but stopped. Again, he looked at the beautiful man, remembering a story. Dropping his hand, he wondered in a low, scratchy voice “Wasn’t it an apple that got Adam in all that trouble?”

A beautifully arched eyebrow. Then that perfect smile turned into an impish grin. A musical laugh flowed around the cell, before the man admitted “I suppose an apple might have been the wrong choice of an offering. Still….” Again, he offered the fruit. “No symbolism intended. It’s just an apple.”

The Shadowhunter’s mind was beginning to work again. Pushing himself up onto his haunches, ignoring the screaming joints and throbbing muscles and roaring stomach, he wrapped his arms around himself and watched the man warily.

The man turned his beautiful smile into an equally beautiful frown. “Why? I know you must be hungry. Famished, even.” His eyes lit up like stars as an idea came to him. “Do you think an attempt to poison you? Drug you?” He huffed before taking a bite out of the apple himself. Still chewing, he offered the apple again.

Alec hesitated. But the roaring his stomach was beginning to tare and cry. With a heavy sigh, he reached out. Eyes never leaving the stranger, he snatched the fruit and jerked back out of reach like a starving dog snatching an offered morsel from a kind human. Back against the wall, he examined the apple.

Except for the tracks left by the man’s teeth and the missing bite, the apple looked flawless. Perfect, healthy, safe.

He braved a nibble.  
Sweet and tart, juicy, delicious….  
The nibble turned into a bite, the bite into a gobble.  
When Alec bothered to breath, he almost blushed with the realization that more than half the apple was gone. It took every ounce of self-control he had to lower the fruit and take a long, deep breath. Even if the apple wasn’t poisoned, gobbling it down after so long without food was sure enough to make him sick. An added misery he could do without.

Again, the beautiful man’s wonderful laugh filled the cell.

Alec tore his attention away from the food and back on the stranger. “Who are you?” he wondered.

“Well, Alexander,” he practically purred. “I am Adrian Loyola, Lanuis of the Order van Helsing, your Comfort.”

“Comfort?” Alec repeated, more confused than before.

“Comfort.” Adrian confirmed. He smiled even more, pursing his lips as he looked the prisoner up and down. “Heaven help me, you are beautiful!” he breathed with admiration. “It’s the Angel blood, you know. His Grace and Elegance makes for a sinfully beautiful creature.”

Alec blinked. He blinked again. And then he realized “You’re a Shadowhunter!”

Adrian leaned back, almost like he hadn’t expected the observation. “No, not a Shadowhunter. But, yes, I am a Nephilim. I have the blood of the Angel cursing my veins.”

Alec was suddenly hit with rage. “You’re a Shadowhunter! Why are you here? Helping them? Helping them hurt your own people?”

The man sighed. He reached out and cupped his hands around Alec’s and the remains of the apple. “Alexander, I am here to help you. To help see your way through the darkness of our diseased blood.”

“Disease?” Alec jerked his hands away and threw the apple at him. 

Adrian easily dodged the half-eaten fruit. “Alexander…”

“I am not diseased!” Alec snapped. “Angel blood is not a curse! We were gifted with the strength, the power, to fight and protect!” He shook his head. “How can you throw that away? Just give it up?”

“Your mother did.” He pointed out. “Did you ask her why? Or how she felt about life once she had been cleansed of the blasphemy on her skin?”

The Shadowhunter stared at him. When he answered, his voice was a hiss. “She was never given a choice.”

Adrian dropped his eyes for a moment, taking a moment to strategize what he was going to say. When he looked up again, he looked Alec in the eye. “Alexander, neither you nor I have a choice in what is to happen here, today, tomorrow, in the days to come. What will be will be.” He explained. “Our only option is to embrace the Salvation the Order van Helsing offers us. There is no one or the other. This is it. The only path before you.” He spread his arms. “And I am here simply as your Comfort, your guide, your reward for Salvation sought.”

Alec chuckled. “Clary would call that good cop/bad cop.” He dropped his eyes to his empty hands, wondering just where the hell this all was going, where it was going to end… what would be left of him when it was all over.

A comforting hand, steady, yet gentle, cupped his jaw, sliding down, massaging his neck…

… just how Magnus would…

Alex looked up into those beautiful golden eyes. “What… what do you mean… reward?” he whispered. “Comfort?”

Adrian’s smile was softer now, gentler, more…. Comforting. “For now? This. Just this.” He assured, his fingers rubbing deep circles along the Shadowhunter’s tense, sore muscles. “But submit to your Purification, accept the Salvation offered to you… and I will be able to offer you more… so much more…”

Alexander pushed his hand away. “Thanks.” He mumbled. Then he scooted back until his back was against the corner. He pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. “But, no thanks. I’m good.”

The beautiful man sighed, looking at him with a sad expression. “It’s alright.” He answered. “When you need support, when you need Comfort, I will be here for you.” He set another shiny, perfect apple on the floor in front of Alec, before rising and stepping back through the exit and out of site.

In the same breath that his Comfort was gone, the sun/abyss began to flash again, that damnable whistle that scratched at his ear drums picked up, and the hell that made up his little cell returned.

Alexander Lightwood buried his face in his knees. “Hurry, Jace, please hurry.”

~~~~~


	8. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, kinda a long chapter. Struggled with this one. Hope it came out alright.

=====  
Chapter Seven  
=====

Luke leaned back against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, dark eyes studying the man before him. 

The prisoner sat absolutely still, absolutely silent, eyes locked on some spot about hip high on the wall in front of him. His robes had been removed, leaving him in only his trousers and socks, a thick bandage around his chest. His arms were strapped down to at the wrists and elbows. His legs strapped at the ankle and knees. Another strap around his chest and one around his throat. He was all but completely immobilized.

“The Shadowhunters…” Luke finally spoke. “They’re calling you Hansel.” He smirked. “Kinda cute, actually: Hansel and Gretel. Makes you sound like some pudgy, little kid stuffing his face with candy.” He shrugged. “Would you like to correct that image?”

There was no reaction. 

The werewolf sniffed. “Alright, then. You, Hensel, are in a world of trouble.” He told the man. “You have attacked citizens under the protection of the Clave. You have caused great bodily harm to several citizens under the protection of the Clave. And, to top it all off, you and your people have taken someone very dear to us.” Luke paused to shake his head. “I’ve gotta say… Not the best first impressions.” He pushed away from the wall and stepped forward to stand just in front of the prisoner. Looking down at him, Luke offered “You’re a mundane, but obviously educated in the reality of the Nephilim and Downworld. The Clave will deal with you as it would any other Seeing Mundane. You will be bond by the Accords. And, sure hope they told you before all this, Clave Law is not gentle. The Law is hard, but it is the Law. The only hope you have of any sort of leniency is to help us now.” 

Still no reaction.

Luke sighed. Leaning down until his face was next to the prisoner’s ear, he growled out “Tell us where Alexander Lightwood is and we just might be able to save your life.”

And still no reaction.

The door opened and Luke straightened and stepped back. 

Jace held the door open for Magnus as the High Warlock entered. “Any luck?” Jace asked.

Luke shrugged. “Didn’t expect any. But we had to give him the opportunity. A chance to do the right thing…”

“He deserves no chance.” Magnus purred. The hard eye Warlock nearly floated across the room and circled the prisoner. He held his right hand up, rubbing his fingers together, sending little blue sparks up in the air as if he was rubbing a pair of magical sticks together. “He deserves a slow and pitiless death. The death of one who attacks and deforms helpless children.”

Jace actually chuckled. “I wouldn’t call Mysti exactly helpless. She was doing a pretty good job, there….” He snapped his mouth shut when Magnus hit him with a glare.

Luke almost smiled himself. But he reminded himself of the man strapped in the chair before them. “Magnus.” He called to the Warlock. He was almost startled by the wild look in those eyes when they turned on him.   
Wild…  
Enraged…  
Dangerous….  
The loss of his lover was starting to ware on his self-control. A dangerous thing when it came to any Downworlder, but a warlock…. A High Warlock!

Luke stepped up to him, took his arm and tugged him back a little. “Magnus, can you do this?” he wondered.

“Of course. I will pull his very essence from his bones if it gets me my Alexander back!” Magnus swore.

“Magnus.” Luke kept his voice steady. “You have to stay in control. Stay focused. For Alec!”

For a moment the man glared at him. But then he blinked and hard eyes turned soft and frightened. Magnus reached up to pat the big hand that still had him by the arm. “I’m alright. Just when I think of what they might be doing to my beautiful Alexander…. So gentle and innocent…” He swallowed hard and shook his head. 

“Then let’s get him back.” Luke encouraged.

The Warlock took a deep breath, centering himself before he gave a nod. 

Jace cleared his throat. When the two Downworlders looked at him standing behind Hansel, hands on the back on the chair, he raised an eyebrow. “We doing this?” he wanted to know. “’Cause if plans have changed, there’s a few things I’d like to try on him.” He twirled a knife around his fingers in case they needed a hint.

Magnus gave an exaggerated sigh and eye roll. “Children.” He breathed with a twirl of fingers in the air as he sauntered back to the prisoner. “No panache, no bravura.”

Jace frowned.

Luke couldn’t help but smile just a little, before he remembered what they were doing. “Jace.” He said, his tone with just enough command to it that the kid instinctively responded by stepping back and out of the way.

The young Shadowhunter might have been the temporary head of the New York Institute, may have been one of the finest warriors the Clave ever turned out, one of the strongest Shadowhunters in history, fiercely loyal, single minded dedication, and had such an ice-cold determination, glaciers gave way.  
He may have been all that, but he was also smart enough to know when his way, blade and blood, wasn’t going to work, and brave enough to let someone else try another way.

As Magnus stood before Hansel, one hand twirling strings of blue magic around his long, elegant fingers. His other hand reached out and, with one sharp finger nail painted a deep, menacing red, he lifted the prisoner’s head by the chin until he could see the man’s eyes.

The power of hatred almost made Hansel’s eyes glow.   
Magnus had seen such eyes many times in his long years. Such hate didn’t scare him anymore. In fact, as he gazed down into those pitiless things, he smiled. With a tilt of his head, he listened to the strings of magic. “You’re right. You have been warded. I can’t read your mind… directly.”

Those hate filled eyes narrowed.

“But, you see, the problem with depending on slave labor is that the laborers are not nearly as free to learn their craft properly as they should.” The Warlock went on to explain in a near purr like tone. “The child who warded you was neither experienced nor educated enough for the task. Your direct thoughts, your conscious thoughts are hidden away, shielded from me…. But, your subconscious thoughts…. That little background noise that you don’t even notice anymore that records quite literally everything…. Those are another matter altogether.” 

Hansel suddenly jerked against his bindings.

Jace stepped forward again, reaching out to hold the man down.

“Do not touch him.” Magnus warned, his eyes never leaving his target. “Do not distract him in the least.” He turned his hand with the strings of magic palm down above Hansel’s head. 

Like snakes making their way down vines, red, flashing threads twirled down the blue strings of magic, hissing as they touched Hansel’s skin before boring down through skin, through skull, into the brain, seeking…. Hunting.

Magnus closed his eyes as he listened.

“’e ‘ill get no’in’ ‘rom me, ‘e foul crea’ure!” Hensel snarled.

“Really…. Dunstan?” Magnus smiled. “A Lanius. Born to the Order van Helsing…. You poor thing. Raised by those people, those so-called Knights of God.”

Hensel jerked against his bindings again, grinding his teeth as he glared up at the Warlock. 

The tendrils of magic curled around his skull, exploring, searching…

“Musty, wasn’t it? Chalky.” Magnus whispered. “Old, decrypted… abandoned….” He chuckled. “Funny how…. Alice was afraid of spiders….” Magnus hummed a few notes of a song. “Fur Elise… always calmed her when you were children…. You sang to her… you’re voice echoed… Large rooms… big, boarded up windows….”

Hensel became very still, closing his own eyes. He began to mumble to himself. “Ad maiorem Dei gloriam or ad majorem Dei gloriam.”

Magnus hesitated. He tilted his head to the other side, as if listening from another direction. “Banging… like tin… metal… light…. Slamming around…. The sounds echo through the long halls…” 

The mumbling became a quiet, deep chanting: “Ad maiorem Dei gloriam or ad majorem Dei gloriam. Ad maiorem Dei gloriam or ad majorem Dei gloriam. Ad maiorem Dei gloriam or ad majorem Dei gloriam….” 

The Warlock winced.

Jace stiffened. He threw a glance at Luke. 

Luke was frowning as he watched the happenings. “Magnus?” he called softly.

Magnus twisted his hand, pulling a gasp from the prisoner. “Grass is over grown, brown, bald black spots…. Gopher holes…. Vines crawling up the brick… tiny holes in the big windows…”

“Ad maiorem Dei gloriam or ad majorem Dei gloriam.”

This time it was Magnus that gasped. He stumbled.

“Magnus!” Jace jumped forward, grabbing him by the elbow to steady him. “What’s wrong? What’s happening?”

Luke was on his opposite side. “That’s enough, Magnus…”

“No….. I…. I need to find Alexander….” Magnus hissed. He squeezed his eyes tighter, sending his red vines deep into Hensel’s skull.

“Ad maiorem Dei gloriam or ad majorem Dei gloriam.” Hensel ground out. “Ad maiorem….” He snapped off his words as his body went ridged, then shake violently. His face turned a deep red, spit seeping through clenched teeth.

“Jace!” Luke snapped.

“Got it!” Jace was already wrapping his arms around the Warlock and spinning him away from their prisoner.

“No! Wait!” Magnus cried as the connection was broken. “There’s still more….”

“He’s having a seizure.” Luke told them. 

“What?”

“I thought this was safe!” Jace growled. 

“It was! It is!” Magnus protested. He pushed pass the Shadowhunter. “Let me in!” When Luke stepped back, he quickly stepped forward and ran his hand down and up Hensel’s body, an inch from actually touching him. “An embolism…. He’s…. he’s doing this.” Magnus closed his eyes and whispered to himself, calling on his healing magic, sending every bit he had into the prisoner.

Hensel ripped his own teeth apart to scream “Ad maiorem Dei gloriam or ad majorem Dei gloriam.”

Magnus flew back, slamming into Jace.

“Hey!” Jace caught. “What the hell?” He jerked Magnus behind him, pulling a Seraph Blade.

But Hensel was collapsed in the chair, slack jaw just hanging open, unseeing eyes staring off into nowhere. 

Luke eased forward, pressed his fingers to his throat. With a sigh, he shook his head. 

“He’s dead?” Jace frowned. “How…” But Magnus pushed pass him again.

“No! No, no, no….” the Warlock was mumbling. He held his hands over Hensel’s head again, sending red tendrils down, seeking…. 

“Magnus, he’s dead.” Luke told him.

“No! He needs to tell me!” Magnus protested. “I need to find Alexander! He has to tell me….!” But his stings of magic found nothing… only cold, emptiness…. 

“Magnus.” Jace set a hand on his shoulder and gently pulled him away. 

“Nothing.” the Warlock hissed. “Nothing!..... But…. But I can get delve into his mind… find traces…. Something….” He started to pull back. “Before it all fades….”

“No.” Jace’s hand on his shoulder tightened. He turned Magnus to face him. “No. You get lost in a dead man’s head and we lose you for good. Not happening.”

“He’s right, Magnus.” Luke spoke up. “It’s be all but suicide.”

Magnus stared at him. “I’m willing to take the risk.” 

“I’m not.” Jace answered without hesitation.

“Not even for Alexander?” he almost pleaded.

Jace dropped his chin to his chest for a moment, taking a deep breath, then another. Shaking his head, he looked up at Magnus again, his eyes glistening. “It’s for Alec I can’t let you do this.” He spoke softly, almost like he was sharing a secret. “He loves you, Magnus. You are the world to him. When he isn’t here to protect those he loves, he depends on his brother… his Parabatai… to look after them…. Look after you.” He lowered his head until his multi colored eyes were level with Magnus’ golden ones. “I will not let him down! I will not risk you!”

Magnus blinked at him, tears welling in the corners of his eyes. “I need to get him back. Jace, it’s my fault… I should have never…”

“What? Loved him?” Luke asked. When the Warlock looked at him, Luke sighed. “Magnus, we’re going to get him back. And, when we do, he’s going to need you. So, no, we are not going to risk you. Particularly since we don’t even know what killed him.”

Jace gave Magnus one more hard look, before he looked pass him to the body. “What was he saying?” he wondered.

Luke shook his head. “Latin, I think.”

Magnus sighed. Running his fingers through his hair, he repeated “Ad maiorem Dei gloriam or ad majorem Dei gloriam.” When the other two looked at him, he translated “For the Greater Glory of God.”

“Was it a spell? A ward?” Jace asked.

The Warlock shook his head. “He willed himself to die. He was a Lanius, a soldier… bred, born, and raised by the Order. He was so deep in the belief of their hate and self-righteousness, he was able will himself to death. Gave himself an embolism, a stoke.” Again, he shook his head. “He hated us so much…”

“What were you describing?” Luke interrupted, not wanting to let his mind wander. “Those bits you pulled from his head?”

Magnus tilted his head to one side. “Boarded up windows, musty, overgrown…”

“Sounds abandoned.” Jace mumbled. “Not like that cuts down the list much.”

“Large rooms, long halls, brick exterior.” Luke pointed out. “Sounds like a business building or….”

“Holes in the windows!” Magnus spun on them, his face lightening up. “Blessed, little vampire! Middle school steely champions!” He grabbed Jace’s arm. “A school! An abandoned school! With a brick exterior and a large, overgrown sports field!”

Jace looked up at Luke.

Luke smiled. “Well, that does narrow it down just a bit. Jace…”

The Shadowhunter was already starting for the door. “I’ll get onto a search.” But then he paused. He glanced back over his shoulder at Magnus.

The Warlock offered a smile of his own. “It’s alright. I’m alright.” He assured.

“Stay that way.” Jace said, before he continued on his way.

~~~~~

Robert Lightwood stepped out the double door and turned back to face his host. He offered his hand in friendship. “Captain, I want to thank you for taking the time for me.”

Captain Hubert van Leige stepped out and took the offered hand. “We share the same goal, we of the Holy Order and you of the Nephilim. Peace and security. The sanctity of our world. The chaos of this city is just the tip of what is happening across the North Americas.”

“I am aware of your concerns.” Robert assured. “And we are taking steps to calm the city.” He hesitated.

The Captain smiled slightly. “But?” he coaxed.

“But…” Robert took a deep breath. “The sooner Alexander is returned to us…”

Van Leige tilted his head to one side. “Indeed. We agree that his influence is strong. We just want to be sure that it is the proper influence. You understand, of course.”

The father’s jaw stiffened, but he managed a nod. “Of course. And your man…”

Van Leige held up a hand. “I trust his care to your very capable hands, Mr. Lightwood.” Then, with a bob of the head, he turned and stepped back through the doors, closing them behind him.

Robert Lightwood stared at those doors for a moment, grinding his teeth, before he tore himself away. Turning away from the red bricks and over grown vines, he hurried down the steps. He had to get back to the Institute before that damnable two-blood screwed everything up!

Captain Hubert van Leige rubbed his chin as he turned down the hall.

“Sir?” 

He looked up to see his lieutenants lining the hall before him. He smiled. “We have been promised no interference. The Clave has resigned New York to the care of the Order.”

“The Two-bloods?” asked one.

Hubert bobbed his head to one side. “No one will come to their aid. The New York Institute stands near empty and alone. As long as we do not threaten the Shadowhunters that remain… except in the defense of our deeds… than there will be no threat from that corner.”

“But… then how do we break the link Lightwood has with that the Two-blood?”

Again, Hubert allowed a small smile. “By defending our deeds.” Done with the discussion, he clapped his hands, bringing each of his holy soldiers to attention. “Take to the streets. It is time to bring this city to heal… or let it burn!”

~~~~~

He was warm. 

He could feel the sun beams warming his skin. His head rested on a comfortable lap, his body cradled against a big, warm chest. He could hear the soft thump-thump of a calm, steady heartbeat. Fingers ran lightly through his hair as someone hummed softly some ancient tune vaguely familiar.

Alexander couldn’t remember the last time he felt was so… so comfortable.  
So warm…  
So safe…  
So loved…

He purred, snuggling down into that lap, reaching out with one hand to rub along the leg.

His purr was answered by a hum that vibrated right down through the chest he was curled up against. The fingers ran through his hair while another hand, another set of fingers traced feather light circles down his arm…  
Over and between his fingers…  
Feather light streaks across the palm of his hand…  
Nails tickling figure eights down his ribs…  
Long, strong fingers caressing his hip, his thigh…

Alexander’s breath quickened. His back arched. His head rolled.

Warm, moist lips laid a gentle kiss on his neck, just below his ear, just where Magnus knew would bring him wide awake.

Alec rolled his head, exposing even more of his throat. With long, fluttering eye lashes, he turned his eyes up and offered a happy smile and a purr to his…

“Well, good morning, beautiful.” Adrian hummed, a twinkle to his golden eyes and such a smooth smile that it could make the most chaste soul consider a sinful deed.

“What the fuck?!” was out of Alec’s mouth even before he could think to say it. Instinct and horror fueled a near frantic leap from the couch that sent the young Shadowhunter stumbling. The back of one knee hit a coffee table, and his balance was suddenly gone. The world began to tilt and spin and the floor raced up to catch him.

“Woe, there!” Adrian caught him just before he hit the floor, easily lifting him and taking the three steps needed to sit him down on the bed. The man, just as beautiful as before, crouched down in front of him, hands on Alec’s bare knees, looking up at him with…  
What?  
Concern?  
The bastard kidnapped him!  
Was putting the fucking moves on him!  
He didn’t get to be concerned for him!  
He didn’t have the right!  
What the fuck?

Still…  
The world tilted and swam, sending his stomach flip flopping through his insides. Alec squeezed his eyes closed and ran a cool hand over his very hot face. “What…?” he gasped, half wanting answers, half just wanting fresh air for his lungs again.

“Easy, my Alexander.” Adrian encouraged him. He pressed a water bottle in his other hand, the one trying to push off the grip on his knees. “Here, take a drink. Hydrate.”

Alec wanted to resist, to throw the bottle away from him, tell him to go screw himself…  
…. But he was thirsty….  
By the Angel, he was thirsty!

“Hold on there.” Aiden actually cooed as he popped the lid off the bottle for him before Alec chewed his way through the plastic. “There you go.”

Alec gulped the water, feeling the cool liquid run down his throat, quenching fires he hadn’t even realized had been burning just yet. He gave up breathing in favor of getting as much of the water down as he could as quickly as he could. Head back, bottle held up, sucking every last bit…   
He closed his eyes with the last drop. The soothing of his throat was almost countered by the ache in his gut as the cold liquid landed like dropping a ten-pound weight in an empty stomach. An angry rumble sounded, protesting. 

“Easy.” Aiden continued to speak softly, as if calming a frightened stallion. “Slow and steady…”

Alec looked down at him as if suddenly remembering he was still there.

“You’ve had a hard day. You need to give yourself a moment to recover.” He reached out to lay a hand lightly on Alec’s stomach.

Alec froze.   
The humming….  
The touching...  
The kissing…

“Don’t touch me!” Alec growled. When Aiden didn’t respond quickly enough, Alexander dropped the bottle and started pushing him away. “DO NOT TOUCH ME!” he yelled at him, kicking as he scrambled back, across the bed.

Aiden was quick to move back himself, putting distance between them. He held up his hands, showing he meant no harm, a show Alec had already decoded as a lie. “Easy, my Alexander. I will not hurt you. I only wish to take care of you… to comfort you… my Alexander…”

“Stop calling me that!” Alec snapped. “And stay the fuck away from me! I don’t need your type of care!” His voice was taking on a tinge of a hysterical squeak. “Care for me? Comfort me? Then let me go!”

The Comforter let out a long sigh. He stepped back even further, taking a seat on the couch they had been on only a few moments before. Hands clasped in front of him, he sat there, silently, waiting.

Alec’s eyes narrowed.   
What was he waiting for?   
What was he doing?  
What did he want?  
Just… what?

The room was quiet, the only sound was Alec’s heavy breathing and even that began to slow and quiet. They just sat there, watching each other.

After a few moments of no one moving, Alec dared to glance around.

It was a small room: a bed, nightstand, lamp, coffee table, couch…

This was not his cell.

Alec’s stomach grumbled again. He slapped an arm around his midsection as if that would silent it. 

“There’s some crackers and orange slices on the table.” Adrian offered in a soft voice. 

The Shadowhunter’s eyes snapped back to his so-called Comforter.

Adrian bobbed his head to the coffee table with the plate of food. “You need to eat.” He encouraged.

Alec ground his teeth, did his best to keep his glare strong, but his stomach betrayed him with another growl. He wrapped his arms around his midsection, trying to regain control of his body. Trying to distract himself from the ever so tempting food, he glanced around the room again. “Where is this?” he mumbled.

The man smiled that brilliant, perfect smile of his. He glanced around and waved a hand. “These are my quarters.” He tilted his head to one side. “Our quarters… if you like.”

Alexander’s eyes snapped back to him. His arms tightened around himself. Anxiety gripped his chest so tight he thought his heart had stopped.   
Our?  
Our!  
He said our!  
No!  
No, no, no, no, no….  
Focus!  
He squeezed his eyes closed. “Why…. I mean how… how did I get here?” he stumbled through the question, trying to avoid the ‘our’ issue all together.

Adrian leaned his elbows on his knees. “You don’t remember?” He actually sounded a little concerned.

Alec’s eyes snapped open. “Remember? Remember what?” His voice squeaked with a note of panic. “What did we do?”

Again, the man held up his hands. “Nothing.” He chuckled a little. “My sweet Alexander…”

“Stop calling me that!” Alex hissed. He rubbed the palm of his hand against his forehead. His brain felt like it had been fried! Nothing was focusing, nothing was coming together, nothing was doing what it was supposed to be doing!

Again, his stomach growled.

“By the Angel!” Alec snapped, slapping a hand against the bare skin of his midsection. “Stop!”

“Hey, easy. It’s alright.” Adrian cooed. When Alex’s eyes snapped back to him, he gave a small sigh. “Your blood sugar is too low. You are dehydrated and anemic.” He shook his head. “You could barely walk to Purification yesterday. You feinted before they even started. Which was probably for the best considering the position of the Mark…”

Again, Alex’s heart stopped. His hand flinched toward his side.

“The Deflect Mark.” Adrian waved a finger indicating his throat. “The magic had to be extra hot so it didn’t need to go so deep that it would injure your carotid or air ways. It would have been more… extreme.” The man dropped his eyes for a breath. “If I could save you from such… alas, my Alexander, Purification is a lesson we all need to learn.”

Alex’s hand reached up to his throat. His skin felt sunburned, bruised, aching…

Another part of him was gone.  
Another piece burned away.  
Another bit of his soul.

He closed his eyes against the burning pressure building behind them.

Jace! Where are you?

“My Alexander….”

Alec groaned. “don’t…” he whispered. He opened his eyes and blinked at those golden eyes that were oh so very close to him.

Adrian was crouched down in front of him again, this time offering up a small plate of orange slices and crackers. “All you need is to eat.” He purred. “Eat. Drink. Sleep. I will care for you…. My Alexander…”

Alec leaned forward until he was mere inches from Adrian’s face. “I! AM! NOT! YOUR! ALEXANDER!” he snarled. He slapped the plate aside, ignoring his stomach’s protest. 

Adrian’s eyes narrowed for just a breath, a smoldering hatred flashing before returning to gentle, beautiful golden globes. He rose up and ran a hand over his face. “You do have the choice.” He explained calmly, looking down at him. “You can stay here, with me. You can be fed, warm, comfortable… your reward for submitting to your Purification.” He turned so he could step over to the coffee table again. He began to dish out another plate of food. “Or you can return to the cell where you will be cold, hungry, thirsty… alone… and worse than the last time you were thrown in there.”

The Shadowhunter hesitated. Despite the warmth of the room, the memory of the cell sent ice up his spine. He couldn’t imagine it being worse than his memory of it. 

Still the price of staying here, for being fed and warm, being comforted…

The humming….  
The touching...  
The kissing…

Alec raised his chin, his jaw stiff, his eyes hard. “I would take that cell over you a thousand times and again!” he answered.

Adrian sighed. “As you wish… my Alexander.” He slurped an orange slice, before turning his back and waving a hand in the air. 

On silent command, the door opened, and a pair of robed men entered. Without hesitation they snatched Alec and dragged him out.

It was almost a comfort when he was dropped on the hard, icy floor. The continuous burning sun/freezing abyss, the insidious whistle that stabbed at his ear drums… 

Alec started to curl up on himself like he had done…  
How many times?  
Five?  
Ten?  
A hundred?

But something caught his eye.

The floor was polished so finely that he could see himself in the flashing of light. And not just the floor. The walls, the ceiling…. Every inch of the cell was a reflection on its prisoner.

Alexander suddenly found himself looking at himself from every direction in multiple layers. Every detail, every hair, every scar, every rib, every red vein in the whites of his eyes, every…

He flinched at the sight of bare skin.   
So much bare skin.   
No Runes.  
No Deflect, no Promise, no Healing, no Flexibility, no Calm, no Courage, no Strength…   
No Alexander Lightwood.

Alec didn’t recognize that slim, shivering, pale reflection blinking at him from every direction. There was nothing there of him, nothing…

The Parabatai Rune, small and delicate looking on such an empty canvas…

“Jace…” Alec wrapped his arms around his middle, protecting his Rune, his Parabatai, his brother… praying he would protect him.  
That he would come for.  
And come soon.

Because there wasn’t much left of him to save.

=====


	9. Chapter 8

=====  
Chapter Eight  
=====

The Hunter’s Moon was quiet. 

Maia had never seen the joint so full so early, yet so quiet. Werewolves, Warlocks, even a pair of Fangs that didn’t get home before sunrise and took shelter in the bar. They all sat at their tables, heads close, talking softly, fidgeting, worrying. By now everyone was talking about the Order and the lack of Shadowhunters. Some even wondering if the Clave had surrendered the city to van Helsing. That would never happen, others argued.   
The Clave would never give up New York!  
The Shadowhunters would never surrender!  
Finally, the Lightwoods would never abandon them!

Still, where were they?

Staying in tune with the rumor mill was only one reason they were all nesting in the Hunter’s Moon though.

Maia didn’t need her wolf senses to smell the fear in the bar. The entire joint just reeked of it. A week of attacks had put everyone on edge. Not that the Order had killed anyone yet. Just made it very clear that they could, at anytime, anywhere, reach anyone. And they were getting more and more brazen with each strike.  
Kidnap a Warlock child just to leave her in the hunting grounds of the Werewolves.   
Crack open Vampire nests like fragile eggs until most of the city’s Fangs had gone underground, figuratively and literally.  
Werewolves being beaten in the street or dragged behind a horse.

“A fucking horse for fuck sake! How much more European could one get?!” Roger grumbled before he took another gulp of his beer. He leaned against the bar and hung his head.

“How’s Victor doing?” Maia asked as she handed another of her pack mates a beer.

“He’ll live. Scarred for life, sure as hell. Left a track of skin and fur for half a mile,” Roger shook his head. “Damn kid got tagged just for crossing the street. I mean, damn, Maia, what the hell? A fucking horse?!”

“His name was Aladdin.” spoke up a man at the door. “And there was nothing so crude as… fucking… about him.”

Every head in the house turned to see the three figures that had spread out just inside the door. Three figures in the all too familiar robes, belted with black belts, wearing those heavy red crosses, modern and archaic weapons holstered on belt and back. Two men and a woman. 

The speaker, the man in the center, pushed his hood back and looked about the room. “Good day to all. And what a wonderful, sunny day it is. Don’t you all agree?”

The stench of fear was so thick, it should have been a fog. Not a soul dared to move, to breath, even to try to make a run for it. Drinks were left half raised to lips, hands trembled, toes tapped, eyes darted.

Maia felt her own gut tightened. Her last run in with these bastards left one of her pack paralyzed. She could still feel the agony of that damn devise…

Just like the one held loosely in the woman’s hand.

But, damn it, this was their country! Their city! Their fucking bar! So, fuck them!

She slammed her hand down on the bar, a small sound that struck like a thunderclap, claiming the attention for herself. Bobbing her head to the side, she stuck out her chin and growled “We’re closed!”

The speaker smiled. He glanced around the room, noting “Pretty lively pub for down time.”

“Private party.” Maia answered. “Invitation only.”

His eyes came back around to smile at her. Even as they twinkled with amusement, there was nothing less than deadly intent in those eyes. Even his chuckle had a snarl in it. Still, he played his role, spreading his hands and admitted “My invitation must have been misplaced.” When Maia opened her mouth for further protest, he held up his hand. “As much as I enjoy banter, truth be told, I am here for a purpose.”

It was half drunk Roger who found his voice next. “You ain’t got no purpose here, you sadistic asshole!”

The man frowned. He looked to his buddy on his left. “Ain’t got no? I was not aware that Werewolves had breed so…. Oh, I don’t know…. Basset Hound? What would be a redneck, hillbilly dog?”

His partner shrugged slightly.

The speaker chuckled, shrugging himself. “Well, then… To purpose.” He looked around the room. “By Holy Mandate of the Order van Helsing any and all gathering and co-mingling of the Hellish Species of the Damned, the contaminated and the tainted, the self-proclaimed Downworlders, are hereby banned and prohibited. This establishment is closed.” He held up a hand to Maia. “With or without invitation.”

For a moment the room was silent, frozen in shock and confusion.

It was half drunk Roger who recovered first. Scrunching up his nose like he’d smelled something bad, he told them “Get out!” 

The speaker smiled. He walked across the room, pausing here and there while the patrons scooted clear. He stepped up to the bar and stood beside Roger. “There is always one dog in every pack that has to be put down before the rest will heel.” He looked at the werewolf beside him. “Are you going to be that dog?” he wondered.

Roger glared at the beer in his hands. It was easy to be brave when the threat was across the room. But when he was standing right beside him, so close that the scent of aggression was nearly too much… fear dried up the drunken haze pretty quick, leaving a somber cold pit in his gut. Then again…

“A fucking horse…” Roger snarled under his breath, his fingers tightening around his mug.

“No!” Maia suddenly interceded. “He isn’t!”

When the speaker turned his eyes on her once more with a raised eyebrow, she continued in a calmer, if somewhat shaky, tone: “This is just a bar, just a friendly corner of the city. There’s no threat here. Only thing we put down here is beer.”

“Really, now?” The Order man leaned on his elbows, turning his full attention on the girl. “You don’t say?”

Roger nearly collapsed once out of the scrutiny of that deadly force. Pack mates were quick to move him off as unobtrusively as possible, while Maia played the distraction.

The girl spread her hands, indicating the whole room. “We’re just fun-loving folks, just like any other New Yorker.”

One side of the man’s lips turned up in a quirky smile. “But you aren’t like any other New Yorker, now, are you?” he pointed out. “You are not a pure soul, such as that carried by Mankind. You are tainted, diseased, filthy, corrupted…” The quirky smile became a sneer. “A grotesque boil, set upon the spread of your infection until all of Mankind falls victim, the purity of their souls lost to your obscene contamination.” He leaned forward as if just inviting her to take a swing.

Maia glanced around the room, seeing many of her pack mates slowly coming to their feet, making room, getting ready. Even the warlocks had sparks dancing around their fingers. She had to smile. Looking back at the man, she leaned right back and suggested “No, really. Tell me what you really think.”

The man’s eyes shifted as if he could sense the movement behind him, but they returned to the bartender just as steady and arrogant as before. When he spoke, he was smiling, but his tone was quiet and deadly. “Oh, I forgot introductions. How boorish of me. I am Sir Cromwell, Knight of the Order van Helsing.” He said, putting a hand on his chest. “Knight Mary-Lisa specializes in taming… let’s say... unruly dogs. I understand you, yourself, are familiar with her little box.”

Maia glanced sharply at the woman behind him. That damn box was out and ready to drop any werewolf in its range.

“Knight Francona,” his voice snapped her eyes back to the speaker, “just so happens to specialize in settling warlocks. Did you know… and, I have to tell you, I did not know until I met Franky, there… that, just like dogs, Warlocks are particularly sensitive to a certain frequency… would you believe it makes them stupid?”

The Warlocks in the room huffed and chuckled their disbelief, though there was a shuffling that indicated they were just a little bit unsettled with the possibility.

This time Cromwell did turn to look at the room. He chuckled at their disbelief. “Perhaps a demonstration…”

“No!” Maia started, reaching out, but it was too late.

Her head exploded, a shock running through her body that dropped her across the bar. Her ears screamed, her fingers clawing at the air. 

All around the Hunter’s Moon, werewolves dropped to the floor, their bodies convulsing.

Four of the Warlocks braved to take steps forward, hands coming up, sparks buzzing. 

Francona turned to meet them, another device in his hands.

The Warlocks’ feet stopped, their jaws went slack, their eyes glazed over. Their arms fell, left to dangle at their sides, the sparks of magic fading into nothing.

Cromwell leaned down on the bar, putting his face near Maia’s. “You understand, now, hound, that there is no fighting us. There is only obedience, only…”

“Get away from her!”

Cromwell snapped up right, his eyes locking on the two vampires in the corner.

One was pulling a Warlock behind her. The other stood in front of them, hissing like a cat, fingers stretched out like claws, ready for a fight. 

“Would you look at this.” Cromwell shook his head. “The health standards of eating establishments in America are truly horrid if they let something dead and decayed just waltz right in.” 

“Those beat boxes don’t work on us!” the first vampire hissed as his partner stepped up to his side. 

“No, they don’t.” Cromwell held his hand up, singling his companions to deactivate their weapons.

Maia gasped as the assault on her senses suddenly vanished. Dizzy and dazed, she rested her forehead on the coolness of the bar.

A hand rested on the back of her head, fingers stroking her thick curls. “Wakey, wakey, little poodle.”

“I said get away from her!” the vampire repeated, the hiss in his tone making it through Maia’s buzzing skull.

The Werewolf pushed herself up with a groan. When she blinked her eyes clear she found herself looking right into Cromwell’s eyes.

“I’ll give you an opportunity to be a good, little bitch.” the Knight offered. “To save your pack for another day.”

Maia glanced around her bar. Werewolves were dragging themselves up into chairs and onto wobbly legs, while Warlocks were shaking their heads and rubbing their eyes. Her people were all but helpless against those damn things. Then she remembered the two vampires, standing protectively in front of their fellow patrons, looking determined, if somewhat unsure, even afraid.

“That’s right.” Cromwell spoke softly. “The Vamps. That stench of death.” He rose up to his full height and raised his voice to speak to the room. “Werewolves, Warlocks, a new way is coming, one clean and pure, a way of salvation for the souls of this city. You are not of Mankind, but there can still be a purpose for you. Air still flows, hearts still beat. If you wish to survive the Purifying of New York, you will comply with the command of the Order van Helsing.” He turned to face the patrons of the bar. “Once more, final telling: By Holy Mandate of the Order van Helsing this establishment is closed.” He took a step forward as if meeting the crowd. “You can start by throwing out the trash. No breath, no beating heart, no life! That which is decayed beyond any redemption!” He stabbed a finger at the two vampires. “What is dead, should stay dead!”

The room stood in silence, eyes switching from the vampires to the Knights.

Cromwell clapped his hands together. “Come on, witches and bitches! Show the Order your intent to comply and we’ll show you mercy.” He stepped aside and waved a hand at the door and the sunlight beyond. “Bring out your dead!”

Maia stared at him. “You’re insane!” she cried. “They can’t leave! It’s daylight out there! They’ll die!”

“They’re already dead!” Cromwell snapped. “If you don’t want to join them, send them out!” When the room didn’t move, Cromwell added “There is another option: we turn our weapons on you and those who survive will still be thrown out into the street. Along with the ashes of the dead!”

There was a mumble among the room.

The vampires who, only moments before, had been defending them, were suddenly standing alone. 

“No!” Maia snapped. She slapped her hand on the bar, again demanding the attention of her patrons. “That is not going to happen!” she snarled. She could feel her canines extending, her bones starting to shift. “You cannot turn us against each other!”

Cromwell turned to face her. “So.” he breathed softly. “You’re the one who’s going to be THAT dog.”

Maia stiffened, her head coming up, her shoulders squaring. “If my choice is being that dog or committing murder…” She leaned forward. “Bet your goddamn life I’ll be that dog!” she snarled.

His hand whipped out, a twisted, silver dagger cutting through the air, straight for her left temple.

Simon pulled Maia back a step, letting the blade slice through the air just a breath in front of her eyes.

Maia gasped as she stumbled back against the back counter.

Simon leaned forward on his elbows on the bar and smiled up at the Knight. “Hi. I’m Simon.” He offered, holding a hand out.

Cromwell blinked at him, confused, startled even. It took a moment to recover, then “The Daylighter.”

When his hand was ignored, Simon shrugged and took it back. “So, you heard of me, huh?” He wobbled his head. “Well, you heard of the Shadowhunters?” he wondered.

“New York is now under the protection and control of the Order van Helsing.” Cromwell told him.

“Oh?” Simon frowned. Suddenly he snapped his finger and ah-ha. “Oh! So, you’re who we should be talking to about all these attacks on good tax paying citizens, interference with business, Order brutality….” He shook a finger at the man. “Hashtag Downworlder Lives Matter, you know.”

That earned him a chuckle from the bar’s occupants. 

Cromwell raised one eyebrow. He turned his attention to Maia, ignoring Simon before him. “You have a choice, hound…”

“Maia!” Simon snapped. “Her name is Maia! Ms. Roberts, actually.” Again, he stepped between Maia and the Knight. “In fact, we all have names, because, as funny as it is, we’re all people….”

“For a corpse you are quite chatty.” Cromwell complained.

“He is, isn’t he.” Izzy agreed from where she stood in the door way. “I kinda find it cute.” She looked at Clary beside her.

Clary smiled. “Oh, this is nothing. Should have seen him in kindergarten.” she teased.

“Yea, yea.” Simon dropped his eyes, shaking his head. “We don’t need to bring that up just right now.”

Francona and Mary-Lisa backed away in opposite directions, turning to face the threat.

Cromwell stiffened. He gave Maia one more glare before pushing away from the bar and turning to face the newcomers. “New York is now under the protection and control of the Order van Helsing.” he stated again.

“Really?” Izzy crossed her arms over her chest, fingers of one hand tapping her serpent bracelet. “I didn’t get the memo. Did you, Clary?”

The red head shrugged. “Not even a text.” She didn’t bother even trying to hide the twin seraph blades in her hands.

Izzy walked into the room, taking a stance directly between the Knights. Her eyes shifted first one way, seeing Francona, then the other, seeing Mary-Lisa. The she raised her chin and looked Cromwell dead on. “By Order of the Clave…. Get out!” 

Cromwell’s eyes narrowed. “New York is now under the protection and…”

“Protection?!” Clary snapped. “Kidnapping, beating, terrorizing… you’re not protectors! You’re bullies and tyrants!”

Izzy, as always, kept her cool as she added “And we really don’t like bullies…. So, last time….” Her fingers wrapped around the tail of her bracelet, and, dropping her arms, snapped her whip free. “GET! OUT!”

Francona moved first, whipping back his cloak, and grabbing for the butt of a sawed-off shotgun.

Izzy’s whip snapped around his wrist, yanking his hand away from the weapon. Even before the whip had finished its attack, Izzy’s steel studded boot slammed into his chest, sending him flying back into the tables in the corner, scattering the patrons.

Clary spun towards Mary-Lisa, her twin blades coming up and at the ready. 

The woman gave her fist a sharp shake and a long silver staff extended out from her grip. From either end blossomed a curved and hooked blade of pure silver. She spun the weapon over her head before bringing one of the deadly ends down toward Clary.

The red head leaped forward, bringing one of her seraph blades up, to meet the staff. She spun outward, letting the staff slide off her blade, while her other blade came around, slicing across Mary-Lisa’s shoulder. 

The Knight grunted, but never slowed, spinning her weapon around to strike at Clary from another direction.

Izzy followed her first kick with another and another until Francona slammed back against the wall. Her whip snapped out with a crack, wrapping around his throat. She jerked, yanking Francona toward her while she swung a fist out to meet him.

But Francona caught her fist just before it made contact with his face. With a snarl he twisted and jerked, yanking the girl against his chest. Glaring down at her, he bared his teeth.

Izzy gazed up and smiled, fluttering her eyelashes, before telling him “Bad move, lover.” And her knee came up sharp and angry, smashing him in the crotch hard enough to lift him up off his feet.

With a look of shock and pain, Francona dropped to the floor, folding up on himself. What little sense he had left, he struggled for his gun, but the toe of Izzy’s boot caught him under the jaw, snapping his head back and dropping him into unconsciousness. 

Clary was trading blow for blow with Mary-Lisa. But the Knight couldn’t complete many swings in the tight quarters with her longer weapon. Clary was chipping away at her, cut by cut. The young Shadowhunter dipped down, under the staff, cutting at her legs.

Mary-Lisa jumped just in time to miss the strike while bringing the blade of her staff straight down, aiming for Clary’s hands. 

With a yipe, Clary rolled back, twisting on her shoulder, and coming up in a crouch. Instantly she launched back into the fray, swinging her blades toward each other in a scissor like move, catching the staff in the center and, with a scream of metal on metal, snapping it in two.

Mary-Lisa jumped back, looking from one piece and then the other of her destroyed weapon. She looked up again just in time to see Clary’s blades coming down at her.

A gun shot sounded.

Clary cried out as a bullet ripped through her arm, spinning her about, and slamming her into the door frame.

“Clary!” Izzy’s cry over lapped Simon’s “No!” As the Vampire threw himself in front of his childhood friend, taking the next bullet in the chest, Izzy leaped after the shooter: Cromwell.

But before the Shadowhunter could reach her, a giant, dark grey wolf landed on Cromwell, slamming him to the floor. Giant jaws locked on his shoulder and shook violently, sending his revolver skipping across the floor.

“Bloody hound!” Cromwell snarled through clenched teeth. His free hand struggled for his belt and the array of daggers. 

Another wolf grabbed his hand, teeth sinking all the way through flesh, muscle, and bone.

Cromwell’s scream was shrill through his clenched jaw.

The first wolf released her hold, turning her muzzle just enough the lay teeth against his throat.

“Maia! Don’t!” Simon cried. 

The wolf froze, her teeth just barely drawing blood.

Izzy stopped just a few feet away from the wolves and their downed prey. A careful look around and she saw another half dozen wolves, all tense, all ready to tare into the man on the floor, each drooling for the taste of hated flesh and blood. Behind them were Warlocks, fingers ablaze with magic, bodies glowing with power and intent.

Isabella held up her hands. “Everyone just calm down.” she told the room. “We have it under control!” Before the last word was out, her whip cracked again. This time striking Mary-Lisa in the head and dropping her to the floor before she could finish her swing on the distracted Clary.

“It’s alright.” Simon quickly followed. Despite his healthy fear of all those snarling teeth, he eased forward, focusing on Maia. “It’s alright, Maia. You got him. He’s down and out. Look at him. He won’t be feeding himself for a long time, much less giving us any trouble.”

The big, grey wolf’s eyes shifted without moving her deadly jaws. She gazed at him for a long, silent moment.

Simon eased even closer. “It’s okay. You did it. You got him.” He spoke softly, never leaving those deep, dark brown eyes.

The tension faded in the wolf’s body, her bristling fur smoothing. She began to pull her head back.

The other wolf snarled around the hand still gripped tightly in his teeth.

Maia’s head came about, snapping her teeth at him.

Instantly the other wolf obeyed, backing away, head held down in submission. 

Despite his torn body, Cromwell made one last attempt: his bloody shoulder shifted, a derringer slipping in his hand from his sleeve. The muzzle turned towards Maia’s midsection. 

“Don’t…” Simon’s voice suddenly squeaked, but it was Clary who leaped pass him, bringing her blade straight down and through Cromwell’s eye, through the socket, the brain, the back of his skull, to finally stop an inch through the floor below.

Maia reared back, scampering away from the gun even as it slipped from lifeless fingers. Big wolf eyes started at the corpse for a moment, before she shook her entire body as if shedding water, then turning and, jumping over the bar, disappeared out of sight. 

With a grunt, Clary jerked her blade free. 

“Woe.” Simon breathed, unable to tare his eyes from the bloody hole in the man’s face. But when Clary groaned, he was reminded of her injury. “Clary! Are you alright? Here. Sit down.” He zipped about, snatching a chair for her and placing it at the ready.

Izzy glanced about the room. “Everyone alright?” she asked. When she got a few blank stares and numb nods, she turned her attention to her fellow Shadowhunter. 

Maia was back in her human form, pulling her shirt down with one hand while carying a first aid kit in the other. “Glad you all finally decided to show up.” She mumbled as she opened it up and started sorting out the supplies. 

Izzy looked up at her from where she was activating Clary’s healing rune. “You’re welcome.”

“We came as soon as we could, Maia.” Clary explained. She winced as the Werewolf tour open her shirt sleeve.

“Yea?” Roger spoke up again, feeling brave once more. “Where were you yesterday? Or the day before?”

“Hey!” Izzy snapped. “We’ve been busy! This crap is happening all over the city!”

Maia paused and looked at her. “Where are the rest of you? Where’s the Clave?”

Izzy ground her teeth.

The room started to mumble again. After a moment, someone asked the question: “It’s true then? The Clave has turned the city over to the Order? You’ve abandoned us?”

“Does it look like we’ve abandoned you?” the brunet demanded.

“Izzy.” Clary spoke softly, trying to calm her friend. “They’re afraid.”

Izzy sighed. She dropped her chin to her chest and closed her eyes. Damn, she was tired!

Clary looked back at the crowd. “We have not abandoned you!” she promised them. “We will not abandon you! But…” She hesitated, trying to figure out how to say exactly what happened when she didn’t even know.   
The Institute was all but empty.  
They might not have abandoned New York, but it sure as hell looked like the Clave had.

“The Shadowhunters haven’t abandoned us.” Simon spoke up. Resting a hand on Clary’s shoulder, he took over, turning and speaking to those in the room. “But the Shadowhunters have been called away and scattered. There’s not enough of them left in the city. The Order knows this. That’s why they’re here, now.” He squeezed her shoulder gently. “And that’s why we need to step up.”

“Simon, no.” Izzy hissed. “They can’t get into this fight. It’s our job to protect you.” She protested.

Simon ignored her. “This is what Alec Lightwood brought us together for: to protect and support each other! This is why the Order took him! This is what they’re afraid of! Us! Working together! Protecting each other!” he waved a hand at them. “You saw just now! They took two down, but couldn’t fight three. So, they tried to get you to do it for them.”

“That’s why he wanted us to kill the Vampires. Turn us against each other!” Maia agreed. “Bastard! Should have let me rip his fucking head off.”

“No!” Simon protested. “No, we need to protect each other, but, like Alec would want, stick to who we are! We don’t kill each other, and we don’t kill Mundanes… well, unless we have to…” He was trying real hard not to look at the body just a few feet away.

“So… You want us to do their job?!” Roger was feeling brave again. And angry. “Lightwood gets himself snatched, so we all gotta jump off the cliff after him?!”

Izzy snapped over her shoulder “Don’t bother! Wouldn’t want you to break a nail!” 

“Izzy…” Clary breathed. 

“Screw the Shadowhunters!” Simon snapped, though he quickly looked to the girls with a soft “No offense.”

“Um…” was all a very confused Clary could get out. Izzy simply glared.

But Simon was turning back to the crowd. “Look, you can go into hiding if you want. Hide in your little closets, under your beds, in your coffins… whatever! But, when things get worse while you’re burying your heads in the sand, don’t start blaming someone else. Don’t blame the ones who are actually out there, fighting, getting shot…. And, hello! Clary’s been shot!... getting kidnapped, tortured, risking their lives! All, by the way, to keep you, not only safe, but also free. Sure, you could sit back and let the Order waltz on in and take over. They will definitely be on every street corner, in every direction. No need to worry about there ever being not enough. You will be so well protected… Warlocks enslaved, Werewolves leashed and muzzled, Vampires playing Ninja Turtles from the sewers… Sounds like fun to any of you?” Simon huffed, shaking his head. “You know, I don’t know what path you’ll choose, but as for me…. Give me liberty…. Or give me death!”

The room stood in silence, a few raised eye brows.

“Patrick Henry… really?” Maia mumbled, both of her eyebrows raised as she looked at her boyfriend.

Simon glanced at her and offered a sheepish shrug. 

Shaking her own head, Maia stepped forward. “He’s right.” She told them. She looked over her shoulder at the Shadowhunters. 

Clary was on her feet now, the hole in her arm mostly healed, bandaged, ready to go. Izzy stood next to her, looking strong as always. Both were watching to see how she would continue.

“The Lightwoods have always been there for us.” Maia went on. “They’re the first Shdowhunters who have ever treated us like equals… like we’re worth something… And now they’re getting the crap beaten out of them for it! Are we just gonna sit back at let it all go to hell? Wine that they’re not doing enough when there’s too few of them? Or are we gonna start pulling our own weight?” Maia slapped her hand down on her bar, an action that was quickly becoming her thing. “We can do this! Together, we can turn the tide!” She sent a glare at Roger. “Unless you don’t think you’re up to the challenge.”

“I didn’t say that!” Roger growled. “Just… well, just wanted to know how this all going to work.”

“Well, maybe we should start by tying these two up.” Simon suggested, nodding a little franticly to Mary-Lisa as she groaned.

As a pair of Werewolves practically leaped to secure the woman, Maia began to call the patrons out, setting up a plan, a schedule, on how the three parties could best cover each other.

Grinning from ear to ear, Simon came back to the two Shadowhunters. “See? We got this.”

“It’s a mistake.” Izzy hissed. She scanned the bar’s occupant with more than a little concern. She couldn’t help but wonder how many of them stood even a half breath chance against an Order Knight…. Forget a pack of three that they had taken to traveling in. “A lot of them are going to get hurt.” She warned. 

“A lot are getting hurt now, Izzy.” Clary pointed out. She cradled her wounded arm against her chest. “We can’t get to every fight, can’t protect everyone. We’re outnumbered, out gunned….”

“Literally!” Simon interrupted. “I mean… man, who brings a gun to a tooth, claw, and whip fight?”

Izzy glanced at him. “The winner.” She sighed and shook her head. “Simon, stay here and keep us informed. I’ll get Clary back to the Institute and head out again. And I’ll get Luke to pick up the prisoners.” Again, she looked out at the patrons. “Just… just don’t let them go looking for a fight, alright. Keep it defense. Leave the offense to me, okay?”

Simon threw her a salute and his best attempt at a reassuring smile.

It failed.

So bad, in fact, he was pretty sure Izzy was cussing him out as she left.

~~~~~~~


	10. Chapter Nine

========  
Chapter Nine  
========

His bare feet shuffled across the smooth, cold floor. Numb legs tangled up and he would have fallen if not for the strong hands that gripped his arms in a merciless tight hold and dragged him along, lifting him up and onto the table as if he was nothing more than… nothing. Everything was dim and just out of focus. Everywhere the air touched his skin it tingled as if his entire body was falling asleep. Sounds were muffled like a towel was wrapped around his head. The whole world seemed so distant and beside the point.

But then it started again.

The rhythmic warmth…  
The burning heat….  
The pain…

And the whispering in his ear: “Let go, Alexander. He isn’t coming for you. No one is coming for you. You are where you are meant to be.”

Like lightening striking up through the core of his being, from his stretched-out toes, through the ridged muscles of his legs, vibrating up through his empty gut, gripping his gasping lungs and snapping at his frozen heart, up through his throat…. And no matter how silent he had been, no matter how he had strangled his voice, a scream ripped from his parched and cracked lips.

Air pushed into his lungs like ice water pouring down on the white embers of a fire. A hiss escaped through his clenched teeth, his arched back collapsed, dropping him back to the table below.

“The toll you take, young Nephilim.” Karolina Cyprian mused as she toed the fallen Warlock at her feet. “The more you cling to your Parabatai, the more Warlocks we burn through.” She leaned over him, her hand resting on his chest. For a moment she watched as his chest heaved. “Your Purification can only be complete when the last of these blasphemy Marks are removed. Let go, Alexander. Let the Mark go, or, I swear upon what little Soul you have, I will rip it from your very being.”

Alexander blinked through bleary eyes at his tormentor…. So far away, so distant…. He could see her lips move, he could hear the mumbling of her voice… but it didn’t matter.  
It just didn’t matter.  
He knew his purpose.  
Keep her focused on him.  
So, she won’t put a gun to another child’s head.  
That was all that mattered.

Karolina sighed as she stepped away from the table. “Again.”

And it started again…

The rhythmic warmth…  
The burning heat….  
The pain…

~~~~~

Jace rested his head against the cool top of the station, gasping for breath. His hand blindly clutched at his side, his Parabatai Rune, his brother…  
Alec!  
He was hurting!  
They were hurting him!  
Again!  
By the Angel, again and again…

His fingers curled up into tight fists, his breath caught behind clenched teeth.

By the Angel, he was going to kill every last…

“Jace?” Maryse ran a hand over his back, rubbing his shoulders. “Breath. Slow, deep breaths. Let it pass.” She tried to keep her voice steady, tried to keep her Shadowhunter cool. But, since her de-runing, she was finding it harder and harder to be that pillar of strength she had always fought so hard to be. Particularly for her children.  
And now one was missing, and another was feeling his pain.  
And she couldn’t suit up and go fight the fight. She couldn’t even command the troops to suit up and go fight the fight… to bring her boy home… She couldn’t even comfort the one she did have.

Still, her touch seemed to bring some comfort. Jace’s breathing eased, the tension faded. “It’s… It’s alright.” he mumbled. “It stopped.”

Maryse felt a cold grip her heart. “Is he…” she couldn’t complete the thought, much less say it.

Jace lifted his shirt to reassure himself as much as her. His Parabatai rune was red and irritated, but still there, evidence of his brother’s continued life.

“Oh, thank the Angel.” Maryse nearly sobbed, dropping her head to his shoulder. For a moment, mother and adopted son leaned against each other.

Then Jace straightened, turning to look at her. “When did you get here?” he wondered as her sudden appearance registering finally.

She smiled a sad little smile at him. She brushed his bangs away from his eyes. “I came as soon as I heard. I may not be as strong as I once was, but I am still a mother. When my children need me, I will come through Eden itself to reach them.”

The young Shadowhunter smirked. “Then let Eden tremble.”

Maryse sighed. “If only it was demons who had him. Those I know how to kill.”

Jace nodded slightly in agreement. “Order van Helsing.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Sudden rage came out as he slammed his fists down on the consul. “I should be out there!” he snapped at himself.

“Jace…”

The Shadowhunter spun away from her and stomped a few feet away, his eyes scanning for something, someone he could beat the crap out of that wouldn’t set off any alarms.

Recognizing the look, Maryse clasped her hands in front of her and gave a loud sigh.

Jace’s eyes snapped back over his shoulder at her with a scowl.

His adopted mother raised one eyebrow and waited patiently. It was a look she had used a hundred, maybe even a thousand times raising him from the orphaned little boy to the powerful young man before her. 

And, as always, it took only a breath or two for Jace’s shoulders to sag, his clenched fists to fall to his sides. His chin dropped to his chest, and all his pent-up rage expelled through a long, deep exhale. Licking his lips, Jace looked over his shoulder again at her. This time his eyes shown bright and moist, his shoulders shook just so slightly. When he spoke his voice cracked, like a little boy desperate to hold back tears. “He’s out there…. Somewhere…. He’s hurting. He needs me…. And I can’t do a damn thing about it.” 

Maryse reached out for him. “Oh, sweety…” she started.

“What are you doing here?” Robert interrupted, walking into the room like he owned it. 

The mother of his children stiffened under his cold gaze. “Robert.” she greeted, her tone just as cold. 

“Maryse, you have been de-runed and cast out.” Robert reminded her. “You no longer belong here.”

Jace stepped in front of her as if he could shield her from his scorn. “She is exactly where she belongs! Where she has always belonged! Where she will always belong!” he growled.

“Jace, she is no longer a Shadowhunter…”

“She is our mother!” he snapped. 

“She is not YOUR mother!” Robert snapped right back.

“Robert!” Maryse pulled Jace back. “Don’t you dare…”

Robert held up his hands in surrender. “I am not here to fight. I have more important matters to attend.” He sent a glare at the pair, before turning away and starting in a new direction. “I will be speaking with the prisoner…”

“Yea.” Jace suddenly looked rather sheepishly, dropping his eyes and absently scratching at his chest. “About that…”

Robert slowly turned back. Eyes narrowed, his question came out slowly, carefully “What about that?”

Never one to dodge an issue, Jace just tossed the answer out with a one shoulder shrug: “He’s dead.”

His adopted father looked as if he had been punched in the gut. “Wh…. Wh….” He tried. When the words just wouldn’t be formed, he had to take a moment to close his eyes and, pinching the bridge of his nose, gathered his wits. When he looked at Jace again, he was once more speaking in a slow, careful tone: “What… did… you… do?”

The young Shadowhunter shook his head. Quickly explaining “Wasn’t us! He had some sort of suicide prayer… or something. He actually prayed himself to death!” He looked back at Maryse, nodding, as if encouraging her to agree with him.

She just looked rather confused and concerned, not sure what they were talking about.

“Us?” Robert repeated. “Who is included in this… us?” But he didn’t need Jace to answer. And suddenly he was raging. “Lucian and Bane? You let Downworlders interrogate our only….. ONLY… leverage in getting Alexander back?!” He threw his hand in the air. “Damn it, Jace, do you even want him back?!”

“Robert!” Maryse hissed.

Robert ignored his ex-wife as he continued to yell. “Are you so set on destroying him? Why? You feel threatened? Was my son’s rising star too much of a threat to your own brazen reputation? Were you beginning to feel overshadowed? Left behind? Just tell me! Tell me why you seem to be fighting me at every turn, at every chance to get him back! To bring Alexander home!” With an angry shake of his head, he snarled “It was curse on this family that I ever suggested binding you to my son!”

Jace stood stock still, his jaw hanging open in shock at the attack. No demon attack had ever made him as pale as he was at that moment.

Robert looked him up and down with disgust, before delivering a final “My son gone, and here you stand, dumbfounded and helpless, too timid to even step out those doors, much less go in search for your own Parabatai!”

Maryse stepped up to him and delivered a stinging slap across Robert’s face.

The man stumbled back a step, a hand reaching up to his bloody lip. He glared at the woman.

And Maryse glared right back, just daring him to challenge her. 

Robert knew long ago that, in a fair fight, Maryse would always win. Particularly when the children were involved. So, with a defiant huff… just so they wouldn’t think he was running away…. He turned on his heal and stomped out of the room.

Maryse waited until he was gone, before she released her held breath, deflating her chest, letting her squared shoulders sag. “He’d always been a good man… in his own way… but that… that was just a bastard… Jace? Where are you going?” she hurried after Jace as he headed for the front doors, sliding his leather jacket on and checking his steale placement.

“He’s right. I should be out there… hunting.” Jace answered over his shoulder.

“And if they hurt Alec while you’re in the middle of a fight?” Maryse called after him. “You won’t be able to defend yourself! What good will you be to Alec if you get yourself killed?”

Half way through the door, he paused to look back at her. His two-toned eyes were red and swollen. He shook his head and wondered “What good am I now?” Then he was out the door and gone before she could say another word.

The mother looked about almost frantically, looking for any other Shadowhunter she might be order after him.   
But there was no one left in the Institute. 

Fine then!   
If no one else would save her boys, she would!

Snatching her phone from her pocket, she dialed an old friend as she followed after Jace.

~~~~~

Magnus flowed into the room like he owned it. “Ah, my beautiful girls.” he greeted.

“Magnus!” Madzie cheered, arms up, charging in for her hug.

The High Warlock, never one to disappoint his girls, scooped her up in a swirling around hug, that ended with a kiss on the cheek and giggles from both.

“Humph.” Catrina observed from where she lounged on the couch. “I never get a hello like that.”

Setting Madzie back on her feet, Magnus smirked at the woman. “Well, if you were as excited to see me, I would most certainly swirl you about the room too.” He told her.

Catarina smiled that all so knowing smile. “Yes, well…”

“Where’s Alec?” Madzie demanded, tugging on Magnus’ hand. Despite her death grip on his three middle fingers, she was twisting this way and that, searching the apartment just as far as she could stretch her and Magnus’ arms.

Magnus’ heart stopped.   
His entire world stopped.  
He suddenly couldn’t breath  
He suddenly didn’t want to breath.  
All of existence suddenly just ceased.

“Way to the heart of it, kiddo.” Catarina mumbled as she climbed to her feet. With a pat on the head and a “Go tell Dot it’s time to go.” she dismissed the little warlock, sending her out the door and out of earshot. When she was gone, the woman turned her attention to her friend. She reached up to put a hand to his cheek. “Oh, Magnus.”

Magnus closed his eyes and leaned into her touch, taking what comfort he could. He couldn’t help the tear that escaped down his cheek. “They took him. They took my Alexander.” he whispered, his heart breaking with each word.

“Sweety, you just had to go and fall for a mortal, didn’t you… Worse, yet, a Shadowhunter.” She shook her head. “You’ve always loved dangerously.”

Magnus chuckled. He opened his eyes and gave her a sad smile. “Is there any other way to love?” he wondered. 

Catrina sighed. She brushed her thumb over his cheek, wiping away the tear. “Not that I would expect from you.” she admitted.

They stood together a moment longer, two old friends being there for one another. Then Magnus took a deep breath and gave himself a shake. Taking her hand, he flashed her his best let’s-have-fun smile, and asked “Shall we?” He bobbed his head toward the door. 

Stepping out onto the balcony, they were greeted by the giggles of children and the nervous hushed voices of adults. Nine children from a baby in a bouncy seat with feathered eyebrows to eighteen-year-old Danten showing off his levitation skills to a slightly younger and completely unimpressed female warlock playing at changing the colors of her very long, very sharp claws. Seven adults, some mundane parents, others warlock foster parents to the children.

Dot came up to him and let them know “Everyone but Amelia is here.” She shrugged. “I tried reaching her, but no answer.”

Catarina looked at Magnus, her eyes suddenly big. 

The warlock shook her head. “I’ll find her when I get back. First, we get these ones out of the city.” he assured. “Children, children.” Magnus called to the group. “Gather around. Now who’s ready for an adventure?”

The younger ones clapped excitedly, but Danten and the other two teenagers weren’t interested in what Magnus would describe as an adventure.

“You want us to run!” Danten accused.

“Noooo.” Magnus rolled out his answer as if rolling his eyes.   
Teenagers!  
Give him a swarm of imp demons any day!  
“You are not running. You are…. Doing a very quick freedom walk!” the last bit was delivered about just as quickly as he could get it out. “Now, if you would all turn your attention to the very lovely swirl of portal magic about to…”

“Running away!” Danten spat. “Like cowards!”

“Give it a rest, Danny.” his mother growled. “Magnus is protecting us…”

“I don’t need protection anymore!” the boy snapped. “I’m not a little kid anymore!”

“Said every little kid! Like ever!” Dot pointed out.

Danten sent her a seething glare, but then continued his argument: “I’m not that little kid who didn’t know who or what I was! Not anymore! Magnus taught me! I was taught by the High Warlock of Brooklyn, by Magnus Bane himself! Magnus Bane taught me to wield my magic, to defend myself, to defend my home!”

Catarina smirked at Magnus. “Couldn’t teach him obedience in all that?” she wondered.

“Apparently no humility either.” Magnus shrugged. “Oops.”

“I can fight!” Danten insisted.

“Now you hear me, you little twerp!” His mother stepped in front of him, jabbing her finger at his chest. “I did not spend the last eighteen years mopping up piss and blood and puke to put food in your belly and shoes on your feet just so you can play the big man and die on the streets! Worse! Get enslaved by some white prick who’ll use you to run your brothers and sisters back into chains!” She huffed. “Could have stayed in the ghetto and let you run with the damn gang!” She jabbed him again. “Not in my life time! No, sirree! So, when Mr. Bane opens that portal, you either march right in, or I’ll drag you kicking and screaming through!” She leaned close and hissed “You gonna kick up a tantrum? You gonna let Madzie be the mature one on this little adventure?”

Mother and son glanced at the little girl who perked up at the sound of her name. Her big, dark eyes blinked at them innocently.

“Or are you gonna man up and help look after them? Protect the little ones?” the mother challenged.

Danten had paled slightly under his mother’s tirade. When he mumbled something under his breath, and she gave him the stink eye, he was quick to amend “Yes, ma’am. I’ll look after the kids…. Ma’am!”

The woman bobbed her head once. “Damn straight.” She turned to give Magnus a growling look. “Go ahead, Mr. Bane. Danny won’t be a problem.”

Magnus raised an eyebrow. He looked at Catrina.

His friend shrugged. “Best nurse on the ward I ever did see.” she admitted. “I’d take her into battle any day!” She chuckled. “Hell, I’d hide behind her in a battle!”

“Well, I do hope it never comes to that.” Magnus smirked. “Now… portal…” He swirled his hands through the air as he turned, summoning a portal.

A snap and sizzle sounded in the air and, with sparks flying from his fingertips, Magnus sent a swirling portal before him.

“Alright, kiddies, follow the yellow brick road… so to speak…” Dot waved after her as she stepped through the portal. The children and their guardians, trusting their High Warlock completely, stepped through the spinning magic. Catarina, hand in hand with little Madzie, were the last pair. 

With one last glance around, Magnus stepped through.

The moment he touched the portal, Magnus Bane knew it was all wrong.

With a gut-wrenching jerk, everything was twisted and rearranged. With a blink, he stepped into a cold, dark, musty smelling space. In the glow of the portal he could see Catarina scooping up Madzie in her arms. Beyond her, another adult was snatching the hands of a pair of children and skirting them to one side. Then the portal snapped out of existence, leaving the room black.

“Magnus!” came an alarmed cry.

Other cries followed.

With a snap of the fingers, someone sent a flare up into the air to hang in the high ceiling, illuminating the room below.

They were in a large warehouse, mostly empty, with only three doors visible: two large garage-like doors at one end, and a small pedestrian door to the side. Standing between them and the doors were eight robed figures. Already moving on the confused warlocks was another six.

“It’s the Order!” Dot screamed a warning, her hands swirling as she called on her magic.

“The Order!” Magnus hissed as he suddenly understood. 

Van Helsing and their enslaved warlocks stole his portal!  
They were attacking them!  
They were after the children!

“Portal out! Portal anywhere! Just get out!” Danten was yelling as he spun about low, swiping the younger children behind him as his mother stepped to the forefront, fists balled up, teeth bared: a street dog ready to fight for her pups.

Magnus leaped forward, yelling over his shoulder “Catrina, get them out!” With a leap and a snap of magic, he landed just in front of Danten and his mother, putting himself between his wards and their attackers. 

On either side of him, guardians stepped up, ready to defend their wards. Hands swirled, sparks of amazing colors speckled the world around them, energy hummed through the air….

Magnus focused on a great spell, one that would throw their attackers from them, that would send them skidding across the floor like stones skipping across still water. A steadfast beat of the heart and he thought the first word of his spell…

Peanut butter!

A gasp to his left and he saw Dot stumble. To his right another of his brethren was staring down at his hands in confusion.

Magnus didn’t understand. He looked forward to see the robed figures still approaching.   
Again, he focused!  
He held a hand out!   
He called down deep!  
He directed his magic with a spell….

Twenty!

A robed figure walked right up to Dot and pushed her down to the ground. She looked about and calmly reached out and pushed another warlock down without so much as a curse.

Canary! Magnus’ mind screamed.  
Wisper!  
Blue!  
Onions!  
Zebra!  
Piss!

The robed announced to his brethren “The creatures are stupefied.” 

A lady Knight stepped forward to stand in front of Magnus. She didn’t wear a robe like the others, but a long, black abaya with a black silk hijab and a black laced veil. Only her eyes were exposed, bright green, strikingly outlined with a heavy black liner. At her waist, on either side, was belted a pair of scimitars. She gazed down at the man at him with cold, steady eyes as she held up a device in her black gloved hand. After a moment of examination, she gave the order “Take the young ones. Leave the elders.”

Hound!  
Bag!  
Fishbone!

Magnus tried so hard to find the right thoughts, the right words, the right anything! But the gnawing at the base of his skull was digging straight through to the back of his eyes. His legs wobbled and began to melt away, slipping him to the floor.

The vanguard of the Knights of the Order van Helsing moved pass Magnus without even bothering to knock him over.

Magnus tried to turn, tried to reach out, tried to follow… but his body just wouldn’t respond. He could hear shuffling, grunts, whimpers… but he just couldn’t…

They were going to take the children!

And he…   
Magnus Bane…  
High Warlock of Brooklyn…   
Couldn’t do a damn thing about it!

Again!

“Be at ease, creature.” The veiled Knight crotched down to be eye leveled with him. “The young will be blessed with a life of obedience to our Lord, Heavenly Allah. They have no soul to save, but they can still serve the righteous.”

“Get the hell away from my boy, you motha fuckin’, son of a bitch…” Danten’s mother screamed, lunging at the closest of the Knights. With a flip of the wrist, she twirled about a butterfly knife, slicing open the man’s face before he could even recognize an attack.

Startled, the Knight stumbled back, one hand to his face, blood flowing over his fingers.

The mother held her blade before her and snarled “Touch one hair on any of these kids and I’ll slice and dice you Chucky Cheese style!”

The mundanes!

Magnus ground his teeth. 

Three mundanes, no matter how fierce, were no match for Order Knights! 

The Knight with the cut face retreated while another stepped up to take his place. “The bystanders, Knight Mavia?” asked the new knight. 

 

The veiled Knight rose up again, looking past Magnus. “There are no bystanders here. Those who bore the creatures choose to support the contamination of their brood.” was her icy response. “If they interfere, they choose their own ruin.”

“I’ll ruin you, you fur-backed, knuckle dragging, misconception of an Al-Qaeda gangbang!” the New York mother warned, swiping at another knight with her butterfly knife.

A chuckle sounded from above. 

The Knights spun about, their attention turning from the warlocks to the ceiling above, searching for the intruder.

Crouched on a beam high over their heads, a seraph blade across his knees, was a grinning Jace Herondale. “Wow. I am going to have to remember that one.” he confessed.

“Two Blood!” Mavia warned her companions. She took a step back, releasing the devise to hang from a chain from her belt. So elegantly it looked like a dance as her arms crossed her body to draw her curved swords, spinning them around in all directions before taking a fighting stance. “Forward guard, stay on task! Rear guard! Defend!” she snapped her command.

The eight robed figures standing at the doors began to move forward. 

Jace rose up and pointed his blade at the veiled Knight. “Stand down! By order of the Clave…”

“I do not answer to the blaspheme taint of Angelic misdeeds!” Mavia answered. She backed away another step, raising her weapons, beckoning him. 

Jace shrugged. “Okay. Works for me.” He stepped forward, off the beam. Even before his feet touched the floor, he was spinning, slicing his blade through the air.

Mavia leaped back as the seraph blade cut through the air. She answered with a double swing of her own, bringing her sword across in a scissor motion.

When the Shadowhunter landed, he continued to drop, letting Mavia’s strike pass overhead. His blade came up over his head just in time to deflect a spear stab from another Knight. His free hand shot forward, snatching the devise that hung from Mazia’s belt. Rolling back on his shoulders, he kicked, his boot slamming into the spear bearer’s chest with such force he was thrown all the way back to slam into the doors. Continuing his roll, he snapped the device free.

“Magnus! Smash it!” Jace called, sliding his prize across the floor to the High Warlock still kneeling on the floor where Mavia had left him. Not bothering to see if Magnus listened, Jace was flipped up to his feet and dancing back to avoid another attack by Mavia.

Magnus recognized Jace. He recognized his words. He saw the object slide across the floor, bumping against the hand on the floor, bracing him up. He recognized it everything! He just couldn’t, quite figure it out. Like information was being received by his eyes, his ears, his skin…. All conduits for receiving information was up and running… But that information was getting lost in translation. What was reaching his brain was gibberish.

“Magnus!” Jace yelled again, but he was getting pushed further away. He was out numbered and Mavia was proofing a true swordsman. 

The Knights behind Magnus moved on the children. One kicked Catrina away before grabbing Madzie by the arm and dragging her to her feet. The little girl swatted at him, but, just as befuddled as the rest of the warlocks, every slap completely missed their mark.

Danten’s mother screamed in wordless rage, throwing herself at the man. Before she even reached her target, another Knight grabbed the back of her collar and jerked back and down, slamming her down on her back on the hard floor. The Knight jabbed a finger down at her and growled “Pobyt!”

Blinking away stars, she growled back “English, fucktard!”

The Knight snorted “’Tay!” As if to make his point, he dropped a heavy foot in the middle of her chest, pinning her to the floor.

A scream sounded as the Knights closed in on the mother wrapped around her baby on the floor. “No, por favor, no!” she cried as they tried to pry her off her crying child.

The only male mundane raised up, only to be instantly slammed across the jaw by a club, dropping him right back to the floor, unconscious. His teenage niece screeched, sinking her claws into the floor as if that might save her from the bad guys.

Danten’s mother curled her lip in a snarl. “Fuckin’ big man, beating up on helpless, little girls and their babies! Well, you can go suck balls! Nothin’ helpless about this little girl!” And up came her butterfly knife, slamming deep into the Knight’s calf.

The man fell back with a cry.

She didn’t wait to see where he hopped off to. She rolled over onto her belly and scrambled over to Magnus. “Mr. Bane!” she cried, grabbing his arm and shaking him. “Goddamn it, Mr. Bane! I trusted you with my boy! Don’t you let them take him! Don’t you dare!”

The Warlock squeezed his eyes closed, opened them wide, and squeezed them closed again.

“Please!” she pleaded.

Jace moved like lightening, dancing around sword thrusts, as four different Knights attacked from four different directions. And then there was Mavia, moving in and out of reach, practically floating on her slippered feet. Her strikes always demanded Jace’s full attention, leaving him open to the other four. 

But Jace wasn’t just any Shadowhunter!   
He was a Two Blood, twice blessed, twice cursed with Angel blood.  
He was faster…  
He was stronger….  
He was more pissed off….

With a twist, he dodged a blow from behind, snatching the extended arm and throwing his attacker forward, sending him stumbling right into Mavia’s line of attack. 

The lady Knight leaped back just in time to avoid catching her own comrade on her swords. 

Jace took a running leap and dropped, sliding across the floor, feet first. He slid under the swing of another two Knights, before twisting and rolling up to a crouch, behind his attackers. With an upswing, he sliced open the back of one, before bringing the blade back down, across the back of the other. 

Both Knights stumbled and fell, out of the fight.

Jace had a breath to look about, take stock of the others.

The Warlocks were still out of the game. The three mundanes: one helpless, one unconscious, the last cursing at Magnus, trying to shake him away.

“Smash the box!” Jace yelled at the woman at Magnus’ side. When she looked at him, he waved a frustrated hand at the in their direction. “Smash…” he started again, but suddenly his side exploded in pain.

For a gasped breath, he thought he had been hit. But the next gasped breath he recognized the pain: Alec!

Jace flung his blade up just in time to deflect a blow from Mavia. He tried to focus on the fight, but his Parabatia Rune sent screaming agony through his body, vibrating through his limbs. His eyes bleared with tears as he stumbled back, blindly swinging at the shapes and movement.

Mavia held one sword up, halting her Knights’ advance on the stumbling Shadowhunter. She watched as he fell back to the floor, his fingers grasping air when his seraph blade fell. Her head tiled to one side like a cat watching a potential meal. 

A new surge of pain tore a cry from Jace, folding him over on himself.

Mavia swayed as she began her approach. She reached out as far right as she could and tapped the tip of her sword on the floor.

Jace flinched toward the sound, but was too curled up on himself to make sense of any of it. 

She crouched down at his feet. “So, the guardian of the disenfranchised falls to a distant pain. How vulnerable. How… insignificant.” She slapped the flat of her blade against his thigh.

Jace snapped about, only to groan, an arm wrapping protectively over his Rune. Through clenched teeth, Jace managed to hiss “I… will… kill…. Everyone of you…… By the Angel!”

The woman sighed. She rose up again. “You are unclean. I hold you to no blame. You are what you are. Alas, the same being said about a mosquito, you are a thing to end before you pass on your corruption.” She twirled her blade before resting the tip against his chest, just above his heart. “I take no joy in this, Shadowhunt…”

Her words were drowned out by a long, clear howl.   
Then another howl…  
Answered by another….  
And yet another howl……

“Werewolves!” someone cried. 

Mavia spun about. “Gather your targets! Open the portal! Quickly!”

Something heavy slammed against the side door. Other heavy objects slammed pounded against the garage doors, buckling them. The thin metal dented, bending until light could be seen beneath them. Sniffing, black noses poke through, followed by heavy, clawed paws.

A pair of Knights slashed at the paws, one catching a toe, earning a yipe. But the attack was answered by a roar of angry howls.

The side door shattered as a huge, silver wolf broke through. He had barely landed on his paws, before another launched through the opening, over the first, to slam into the nearest of the Knights.

The Knight gurgled on his own scream as the wolf ripped out his throat.

“The portal! Get the portal open!” Mavia was ordering her Knights when she heard someone land on the floor behind her. Instantly, she spun about, her blades arching through the air. 

Maryse brought her naginata up, spinning the pole and sweeping aside the Knight’s own weapons. She stepped sideways, coming to stand over Jace’s legs. She held her seraph naginata up and at the ready as she faced off with the woman. “Stay the hell away from my son!” she snarled.

Mavia backed away. 

“Hey, bitch!” someone yelled.

She glanced back to see the mundane woman smashing the device that held the Warlocks in their stupefied state.

Magnus Bane, High Warlock of Brooklyn, gave his head a shake, before raising tiger eyes up. Then he was rising, one hand swiping through the air. 

Instantly Knights were thrown through the air, slamming into their fellows.

Werewolves pounced on the fallen, biting and ripping and tearing.

Then Magnus was turning, facing the Knights who threatened his wards. “Get! Your! Hands! Off! Of! Them!” he growled.

Despite still being unsteady on their feet, the Warlocks rose. Around them the air sizzled with angry power, snapping and hissing, swirling in sparks and flares.

Madzie threw a hand up, sending a blinding light up in the face of her attacker. Catarina snatched her up, bringing up her own hand to send a wave of power smashing into him, sending him skidding across the floor. 

“Danny!” Danten’s mother ran for him, but a Knight had had enough of her interference and struck her across the back of the head, dropping her to the floor.

Danten’s response was instant: “BURN!” 

Blue fire roared into life, swirling around his body like a tornado. Tendrils of flame whipped out to grab and engulf his mother’s attackers.

The man opened his mouth to scream, but choked on flame instead as the tenticles reached down his throat. The only sound was the crackling and sizzling of a man being cooked from the inside and out. The flames flared, feeding on the fuel of a human body and Danten’s rage. The cloth was gone in blowing ash in seconds, and still the flames raged, bubbling and charring skin until white bone was exposed. Then white bone blackened and cracked.

“Danny, don’t!” the mother cried, but it was too late.

With a clap of his hands, Danten’s fire erupted in an instant towering inferno, swallowing what remained of the Knight in an explosion that blinked itself out. All that remained was a greasy ash circle on the ceiling above and a blackened pile of bone shards.

At the tender age of eighteen, Danten had burned a man alive.

“Out!” Mavia snapped her command. She jumped back, dodging a wolf. She struck the Downworlder with a back hand that sent the creature falling back. Then she was dodging Maryse’s spinning polearm, 

The former Shadowhunter thrust her weapon at the woman, but quickly stepped back to stand protectively over her adopted son.

Mavia turned away from her and threw a vile on the floor before her. Glass shattered and a portal swirled into existence. “Out!” she yelled again. “Out! Now!” and she dove through. 

Three more Knights were able to make it to the portal before it snapped closed. 

A wolf leaped pass Maryse, skidding on the floor just to one side, putting himself between her and any of the remaining Knights. His protection wasn’t needed though. The remaining Knights were beaten, dying, or dead.

Maryse kept her naginata at the ready a moment more, watching as the werewolves wrapped up the fighting and the Warlocks turned to their wards. When satisfied of their safety, she crouched down and ran her fingers through Jace’s hair. 

He was damp with sweat. His lip was bleeding where he had bit into it. His arms were wrapped around his side, his Rune. But his muscles were relaxing, he was taking shaky breaths…. he was recovering.

Maryse dropped her head and gave a relieved sigh. “Oh, Jace…”

“I’m fine!” Jace managed through clenched teeth. He rolled onto his back and glared up at the ceiling. With a frustrated growl, he slammed his hand down on the floor. “Damnit!”

 

~~~~~


	11. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be warned: there are some uncomfortable non-con situations coming. Though the worse of it will be behind the scenes, you, my beloved readers, will be very much aware of them.   
> Please precede with cation and remember: breaking someone isn't exactly a bowl full of cherries and churros. Folks get hurt. And if the reader doesn't feel his pain, then I haven't done a very good job.  
> ~~ The Chronicler  
> ~~ HJ Duncan

======

Chapter 10

=====

 

Adrian watched as the Shadowhunter slept.

Slept…  
Unconscious…  
Potato…  
Pototo….

He should probably be more precise, considering he was the Shadowhunter’s Comforter.

Adrian smiled to himself. Comforter! What a plush, bore of a duty. Play nice! Be his treat! See him fed! Hold his hand! Wipe his ass! Fight every naturally aggressive instinct Adrian had to jump the pathetic Alexander, slap him into obedience, and lick his body…

A groan from the bed brought Adrian back to his duty, his mission.

Alexander Lightwood’s eyes were squeezed shut, his teeth grinding, his nose scrunched up, his dark bangs plastered to his damp brow. Long, angel like fingers were knotted in the bed covers, tugging at the soft cloth with every twist of his body. 

Adrian found himself holding his breath, admiring that long, beautiful body. Even with that hated Parabatia Rune, his skin was flawless, smooth, golden, elegant…

Damn, Angels did some fine work when it came to Alexander Gideon Lightwood!

The Shadowhunter gasped, his back arching, every muscle as tense as a bowstring.

Adrian licked his lips. Oh, to be in that dream…

Alec suddenly bolted uproght with a choking sob, scrambling back until he hit the headboard. Huge hazel eyes darted about as he tried to find something familiar, something… comforting…

Adrian leaned forward on the couch, his elbows on his knees. “My Alexander.” he called to him, his tone soft and gentle. 

Alec’s eyes snapped about, locking on him. For a moment he held his breath. Then he sucked in his lower lip between his teeth. He actually moved even further back, trying to disappear into the headboard.

Adrian held his hands up. “Gently, my sweet Alexander. You are safe.” he assured. Careful to stay seated on the couch on the other side of the room, the Comforter waved a hand to the bed stand. “There’s water, fruit…”

“Don’t call me that!” Alec croaked.

Adrian smiled. “Drink. Eat. Regain some strength…. My Alexander.”

The Shadowhunter’s response was fast enough, despite his condition, that it nearly took Adrian by surprise. He lurched across the bed, snatched an apple, and threw it at him. “I’M NOT YOURS!” he screamed.

Adrian laughed as he dodged the projectile. “Woe, sweet angel!” he chuckled. He spread his arms in what was becoming his classic stance when it came to this particular duty. “I’m on your side, remember?”

Apparently, the outburst had used up what little energy Alec had, and he fell back against the head board again. He dragged those long legs up, wrapping one arm around them while his other hand covered his Parabatia Rune as if to protect it. Closing his eyes, he laid his head down on his knees.

The Comforter watched him for a moment before, carefully, rising to his feet. 

Alec stiffened, his hands balling up into fists…

Adrian frowned.

Funny. He hadn’t realized it had been bugging him until just then.

Beaten.   
Scared.   
Hurting.  
Alone.

All these emotions rolled off of his charge like a stink.

But those balled up fists, that thrown apple, his continued rejection… None of that, not a signal one, was the reaction of a broken man.

Captain Karolina Cyprian believed that he had been broken. That’s why he was brought in, why a Comforter was due. One only needed comfort after one was broken! But was he broken? Truly? Why else would he have stopped fighting her? 

Adrian’s eyes narrowed. “Why else indeed?” he wondered aloud. He tilted his head to one side and smiled. “You haven’t stopped fighting her, have you? You’ve just changed tactics, you sneaky, little bastard.”

Hazel eyes, shiny and moist, peered at him over the top of bare knees. Those beautiful eyes grew large with every step Adrian took toward the bed.

“You’re protecting the warlocks!” Adrian exclaimed, snapping his fingers in the air. “You are resisting her by sacrificing yourself to save the warlocks!” He sat on the edge of the bed and shook his head. “My Alexander!” he laughed.

Alec’s head came up angerly. “Don’t call me…”

Adrian’s hand snapped out, latching onto his ankle. With a strong jerk, he dragged the Shadowhunter down the bed, 

Alec’s hands flung out at him, but… hungry, dehydrated, exhausted… he was in no condition to fight off the bigger, stronger, healthier Knight.

Adrian quickly caught his wrists in one big hand and pinned them to the head board, while using his other hand flat on his belly to hold him down. He leaned over his captive until his face was just a breath from Alec’s. “Do you know what this means?” he hissed. “You’re not ready for a Comforter. You still need to be broken.” He gave a crooked smile as his eyes drifted down Alec’s chest then drifted back up. “I have broken men before. Many men, all strong and vibrant. And here you are, a half-starved, little Angel, all alone…. MY Alexander!” He dropped his head, pressing his lips to Alec’s with a hard kiss.

When Alec opened his mouth to yell, Adrian’s hand snapped up, grabbing his chin in a vice grip, fingers digging into his cheeks, between his teeth, locking his jaw open. 

Pressing the advantage, Adrian’s thick tongue delve into Alec’s mouth, rubbing his teeth, wrestling with his own tongue, forcing it down to the back of his throat until Alec choked. Only then did Adrian pull away, releasing his grip on the boy’s chin.

With a gag and a sob, Alec whipped his head about, turning to the side, trying to hide his face in his shoulder.

Adrian dipped his head again, dragging his tongue up the side of his throat to the base of his ear, which he nipped at. He relished the flinch and whimper his captive involuntarily gave up. “You see… you are MINE! MY Alexander! The only reason I haven’t taken you before was because you were already broken…” He chuckled, nuzzling his ear. “But you aren’t, are you? Not…” 

Another nip.  
Another whimper.

“…yet.” 

Adrian’s hand scratched his way down his chest, over his belly, to the waist band of his boxers. With a grin, he snapped the elastic.

Alec twisted his body, kicking his legs. “Get off me, you sicko!” he growled, trying very hard to sound brave.

Adrian threw a leg over him, straddling his thighs, and pinning his legs down. He laughed as Alec bucked and struggled, all weak and pitiful. “You did this to yourself, you know.” Adrian purred as he leaned down again, his free hand slipping under his waistband. It didn’t take long for his talented fingers to find his target. He wrapped his fist tightly around Alec’s member, giving it a hard jerk.

Alec cried out, thrashing against him. “Stop!” he demanded.

But Adrian squeezed and pulled, squeezed and pulled, using just the right amount of pressure to get just the right response…

Alec half gasped, half sobbed, turning his face away again.

“Is this how your Warlock does you?” Adrian hissed into his ear, nipping at the tender flesh. “Does he jerk you off? Hard and fast?” His own breath was catching as he felt Alec’s body respond against his will, growing hard and hot in his grip. He ran his thumb roughly over his tip.

Squeeze and pull…  
Squeeze and pull……

“Are you imagining him, right now, sucking you dry, biting your neck, leaving his mark… his claim on you?” This time he bit his ear, tasting blood. His own blood seemed to boil with the boy’s cry. “Look at me, my Alexander!” When he stubbornly refused, Adrian released his hands so he could grab his chin.

All the while…. Squeeze and pull…. Squeeze and pull….

As soon as they were free, Alec’s hands punched and pushed at his shoulders, trying to dislodge him.

Adrian laughed at his efforts. He forced his head to turn, to look up at him. “Think about it, my Alexander.” He purred. Huffing himself now, he took a moment to drag his tongue up his cheek. “If this… you belonging to me… wasn’t meant to be… why can’t you push me off? Oh, and why are you so fucking hard?” He laid an almost chaste kiss on his forehead, before, suddenly, rolling off. 

It took Alec several gasped breaths to recognize that the weight was gone. Then he was scrambling back against the head board once more, dragging his legs up against his chest. His whole body was shaking, and his eyes burned with tears. When he dared to look up at Adrian, the man was standing at the door, grinning at him.

“Take some advice… MY ever so sweet Alexander.” Adrian cooed. “Eat something. Breaking you won’t be nearly as much fun if you pass out.”

Alec stared after him, his brain frozen in a blinding panic.

What…?  
What was….?  
What the fuck…?

He couldn’t stop shaking. Everything was shaking! Even his fucking dick, by the Angel! 

The bastard had painfully jerked him off almost to release and then left!  
And Alec’s screaming mind couldn’t fathom which was worse: being jerked off by that bastard; or that bastard not finishing the job!

What the fuck was wrong with him?!  
His stomach wretched, his brain twisted, his skin itched.

By the Angel, he could still feel his fingers….  
His teeth biting…  
His weight pressing down…  
His tongue filling his throat…

“Stop!” he snapped at himself. “Stop! Breath! Focus!” His eyes darted about for something to focus on. 

An escape!  
A reason!  
A release!  
A dream!  
Magnus!

By the angel, Magnus!

Only Magnus had ever touched him like….  
Not like that!  
Magnus had never… would never… do that…. Hurt him like that…  
He was Magnus’!   
He belonged to Magnus!   
Only Magnus could call him “My Alexander.”

And what was left for Magnus?  
What of Alexander Gideon Lightwood was left?  
Nearly everything worth having was gone and Adrian was going to take what was left.

His eyes locked on the bowl of fruit and his mind instantly snapped together with purpose.

No.  
There was one thing he had left.  
Alexander would fight!  
And he was going to fight!  
He was always going to fight!  
Alexander Lightwood would never stop fighting!

If he couldn’t fight his way free, then he would fight hard enough to make them kill him.

With a sudden cry of rage, he snatched the bowl and threw it across the room. 

~~~~~

Beyond the door, Adrian smiled at Karolina.

She did not return his smile. “You call that comfort?” she demanded.

Adrian shrugged. “You call that broken?” he returned. He didn’t wait for an answer. Instead he turned his attention to Captain Hubert van Leige. “She hasn’t broken him. She can’t break him. Cleanse him, yes. But he won’t break for her.”

Van Leige watched him for a moment as their prisoner smashed and kicked and threw anything he could reach. The he turned to his fellow Captain. “Is it possible, Karolina, that he resists you through the Warlocks?”

The woman pursed her lips, unhappy. But she gave it honest thought and, finally, gave one nod. “Possible, yes. Even, in retrospect, likely.” she admitted. “His compassion for the Tainted is one of his most powerful sins.”

Van Leige took a step closer to the one-way window into the quarters. He watched as their captive slammed his fists against the headboard.

“We are considering rape, Captain?” Karolina asked, the thought obviously sickening her.

Adrian chuckled. “A common enough implement of lesson throughout biblical times.” he reminded her.

“These are not biblical times!” she growled back.

“No.” van Leige agreed. Then he turned and faced the two. “But… he responds…. Quite actively responds. He’s cracking. An advancement in the right direction.” He nodded once to Adrian. “Continue… but, remember, Lanius, this is for the good of him and all of Man… not for your pleasure. We need him broken. Not shattered.” That said, the Captain took his leave, letting his two underlings to discuss the best way to continue.

Knight Mavia was waiting for the Captain. Despite her past hours, she looked, as always, poised and regal. As he approached, she bowed at the waist, low and dutiful. 

“It did not go very well.” Van Leige observed.

She rose up again, her striking eyes turning up. “There was an unexpected obstacle, my Captain. We had nearly collected the harvest when the Two-blood made an appearance. Our assault on the Two-blood, aided by the timely assault on his Parabatia, was nearly successful when…”

“Yet another interruption.” Hubert shook his head. “The Tainteds’ bound is troublesomely strong.”

“The bound is only as strong as their leadership.” Mavia pointed out. “The hounds came to the aid of the Two-blood, on the heels of Lightwood’s mother. I doubt they would have been there if it had not been for their connection.” She glanced back the way he had come. “We need a cleansed Lightwood to lead them into the light.”

The Captain sighed. “Another troublesome bound. It would have been easier if you had succeeded in killing the Two-blood.”

Mavia bowed her head. “A suggestion, my Captain.”

Van Leige smiled slightly. “Of course, my Knight. Always.” he encouraged.

“Use Lightwood to distract the Two-blood.”

The man raised one eyebrow. “I do believe that’s what we have been doing.”

Mavia shook her head. “Use him to lure the Two-blood out into the open. Use the Parabatai Rune to demobilize him. Then end him. And the Rune. And whatever resistance Lightwood may still possess.”

Hubert van Leige thought on it for a moment. “A dangerous plan.” He observed. “The Two-blood would not venture out alone again. He would need Alexander’s physical form within reach to lure him out at all. We would be risking quite a lot. Yet…” He tapped his chin with one finger. “Yet the devastation would surely break Alexander to the will of the Order.” He nodded once. “I will consider your proposal, but only after Lanuis Adrian Loyola has been given an opportunity to try his theory. If we can avoid endangering our prize, then we will.” He pursed his lips. “As for now, you need to return to the Order and make a plea for more Warlocks. Our supply is dwindling quickly, worn through be the Cleansing. And the local population is going through more Knights than I’d like. We will know by the time you return which path we will follow.”

Mavia bowed her head again as she retreated to follow the command given. This time, though, in shame for her failure, even though she knew the Captain never blamed his subordinates for unavoidable defeats. It was still a stain on her honor. One she would happily see resolved with the death of the Two-blood and his adopted mother.

~~~~~

“What the hell, Jace!” Izzy demanded as she stormed into the room. “We agreed…”

“Izzy, give it a rest.” Jace groaned.

“A rest?” his adoptive sister huffed. “I’ve just started!”

“Isabella…” Maryse stepped in. “He understands.”

Izzy pressed her lips together, making a physical effort to hold back her anger. 

Jace was leaned over the map table, glaring at the lines without actually seeing them. He was using every ounce of self-control he had to…

To what?  
Not beat the crap out of another computer?  
Not kick and curse and stab at the air?  
Not to fall to his knees and cry?  
Not to give up?

The look on his face was enough to extinguish Izzy’s anger. Sighing, she walked over to him, and draped herself over his back, arms wrapping around him. “Ah, Jace. I’m the one who does stupid things for those I love.” 

Jace ground his teeth. “I’m useless.” He growled at himself. “I can’t find him here. I can’t go out there to look for him. What the hell am I supposed to do?!”

“We’ll find him!” Izzy promised.

“How?!” Jace demanded. “How?” he almost begged.

Izzy shook her head. “I don’t know. But we will! That’s what we do. We never give up on each other.” When Jace glanced back at her, she swore “We never give up!”

Jace stared at her for a breath, before turning and hugging her. Burring his face in her hair, he whispered “I don’t know what to do without him.”

Izzy straightened up. “We fight.” she told him, her tone suddenly hard. “We fight and fight, and fight. We make them bleed and pay so dearly they give Alec back to us!”

Jace looked at her, then he looked passed her. His eyes widened. “Magnus!” he suddenly called out, stepping around her and crossing the room to where Magnus and Luke were just coming in. 

The Warlock looked a little rough around the edges. No one could actually pinpoint what was off; just Magnus Bane wasn’t his usual self. He was smiling, but there was nothing of his usual sparkling self in his expression. Even his showy style was missing his usual flamboyant flare.

It was a look the had Jace rushing with concern. 

But Luke stopped him with a upraised hand. “Kids are safe and sound out, out of town. Kandel went with them. Had a couple newbies to the pack that aren’t ready for what’s going down here. Thought it’d be safer if they went with the Warlocks.” Luke shrugged. “Kandel had a son Danny’s age. Might be able to talk the kid down from that gut kick he took.”

“He took?” Magnus looked like he was going to be sick. “He took a life! There is no getting over what that boy took… what he lost!”

“He was protecting his mother.” Maryse was quick to defend. As a Shadowhunter, even in past tense, killing in defense of others had always been a way of life… of existence. She understood, even admired the child for his actions.

“Leave it to a Shadowhunter to face the loss of innocence with only a shrug,” Magnus hissed.

Maryse flinched. 

And Magnus instantly regretted his words, his tones, his manner…. He regretted everything! Everything he had done to get them all into this horrible mess!

He quickly stepped forward, catching Maryse’s hand in his own. “I am sorry, my sweet Lady. You did not deserve that.” He glanced around at his companions. “None of you deserved that. None of you deserved any of this!” 

Maryse used her free hand to take Magnus by the chin, raising his face until he could see her soft smile. “Magnus, this isn’t your fault.” She assured. She huffed, throwing Jace a mild glare. “Both of you, now! You need to stop this… this…. Wallowing in self-pity! Neither of you are to blame!”

Jace shook his blond waves. “Wallow?” he huffed himself, the most undignified scrunch to his nose.

Maryse put her hands on her hips and took her best motherly stance. “Wallow!” she repeated, making sure there was no mistake in her choice of words. She had said exactly what she had meant.

Magnus and Jace exchanged a glance before turning to her, each with a raised eyebrow.

Maryse fought the urge to smile.

Neither Luke nor Izzy even pretended to fight the urge.

“Wallow!” Maryse repeated for a third time. “Jace, there is no better protector on earth, heaven, nor Edon, for Alec than his Parabatai! You have been and always will be his unwavering guardian, his unbreakable shield, his most loyal friend and brother. If you could not have protected him, then no one could have. And Magnus, your love his such… such magic for Alec! His reason to be, his inspiration, his muse… True love is such a precious thing that it can only be a true miracle. You are that miracle for my son. And if some… self-righteous, holier-than-thou, stick-up-his-butt asshole… has a problem with it, then it’s on him! Not on you!” She raised her chin a little, setting her jaw. “And if that outdated, chest thumping, thumb up their asses shit of a cult has some problem with it … well, then…. I’ll rip them all fucking new ones!”

Jace’s jaw dropped.

Magnus blinked, blinked again. Blinked yet again.

Luke choked.

And Izzy doubled over in laughter. “Mom!” she managed to gasp.

The mother ignored all. She put one hand on Jace’s shoulder, the other on Magnus’ shoulder. “My point being is that what and who you are is the foundation of what and who Alec is. If you start doubting that, doubting your place in his life, your worthiness of him, then you’re destroying him all on your own, crumbling that foundation right out from under his feet…. Stop it! Buck up, Buttercups! Pull yourselves together and do what you do so damn well: fight for what you believe in! Fight for what you Love! Fight for my boy! And bring him home!” She stepped back to look the two up and down, making sure they had heard her… even if they might need a moment to translate. Then she spun on her heal and marched out of the room.

Luke hesitated only a moment before he hurried after her. 

Jace frowned. He looked at Magnus. “Buck up, Buttercup?” he wondered.

“I’ll get back to you on that.” Magnus shrugged. “I’m still… titillated over her wonderful descriptions of the Order.”

And Izzy was all but rolling on the floor, holding her sides as she laughed, hiccupping “Rip…. Them… a fucking…. New…one…. MOTHER!”

Luke didn’t have to go far to catch Maryse. 

She had made it around the corner before she collapsed against the wall, her face buried in her hands.

Luke didn’t say a thing. He didn’t need to. He simply stepped close and held his arms opened.

Maryse didn’t even look up to see him there. Maybe it was instinct, maybe it was some long-ago connection, but she knew he was there. She turned into his embrace, buried herself in his chest, and silently sobbed all her fears for her children.

=====

“This had better work.” Maia growled, though there was no real bite behind her words. Sure, more than a little fear, but, hey, she had volunteered to play Guinee pig.

“It…. should….” Simon sounded less than a hundred percent convinced. 

Clary glared at him. “Should?” She shook her head. “Then no, we’re not doing this! I told you, Simon…”

“It’s sound reasoning!” Simon protested. “Those sound boxes are just that: Sound! Different pitches, different wave lengths effect the brain… different brains…. differently. If we can disrupt that sound… with white noise or something… drown it out with something else… then the wolves won’t be effected… and the Order loses their advantage over them!”

“I am not going to torture Maia on a hunch!” Clary shook her head. “We’re not doing this!”

“I’m doing this!” Maia corrected. When the redhead turned sharp eyes to her, she repeated very precisely “I am doing this! You can either help or go stand in a corner. But I am doing this! If it’ll help the Downworlders, protect themselves…. ourselves…”

“Maia, you don’t have to…” Clary tried, her concern making her eyes glisten in a way that seemed to attract everyone to the girl’s following. 

Lambs to the slaughter, so to speak, Maia mused. Well, she was no lamb, that was for sure! “You don’t know what it is like to be so… utterly stripped of your ability to defend yourself… of everything!... to be so helpless while those bastards hurt those you love!” she growled.

The redhead hesitated, her eyes dropping for a moment. “Actually…” Clary sighed, “I do.” She looked up again. “Alright, then. Short bursts. Completely controlled. If you need to take a moment… want to stop at any time….”

“Yea. Got it.” She glanced at the two. “Let’s get this over with!” She took a deep breath and hooked her thumbs in her back pockets. She looked expectantly at Simon. 

Simon offered her a set of headphones. “We’ll try sound canceling first. But sound vibrations could still…”

“Yea, yea. You better buy me a drink after this.”

Simon smiled. “I know a bartender.”

~~~~~

Alec twisted against the strap, feeling his wrist pop. His skin pinched and he was sure that tickle was a drop of blood running down the inside of his wrist.

“Gently, child.” Karolina soothed, running a gentle finger along his skin, wiping away the blood. She adjusted the strap, so it laid flat.

Alec stiffened at the touch. He forced his eyes to lock on some imaginary dot on the steel ceiling above him.

The woman’s smile seemed sad somehow. She sighed as she leaned back. “I want you to see something, Alexander Lightwood. I want you to see the result of your defiance.” She turned and waved a hand behind her and waited. When he didn’t respond, she wrapped her fingers around his chin.

Alec’s reaction was violent, slamming his head aside, ripping his chin free from her grip, He turned his head in the opposite direction, biting the inside of his cheek, doing his very best not to snap at her. 

The Captain of the Order van Helsing straightened. She flexed her long fingers. Her hand snapped out, fingers digging into his jaw. Her iron grip turned his head, forcing his eyes in the direction she desired. She brought her lips down to his ear, so close, he could feel her hot breath on his lobe. “Look!” she snarled.

Behind her was a line of five young children… Warlocks! Their eyes were sunken, their limbs nothing but skin hanging off bones, their fingertips burned, their skin lined with blue veins. 

“These creatures you so pity failed to cure your sin.” Karoline hissed in his ear. “So much power coursed through those tiny bodies, cooking them from the inside, just to burn away your blasphemy. And, despite your self-proclaimed righteousness as defender of these mongrels, you held on to that sin, eating away at those creatures, using them up. You sent each one, and many others, to a fiery end, all the while believing in your own propaganda of resistance by self-sacrifice!”

Alec hated what he saw.   
Children, once beautiful in their own, magical way, now dying shells. The one little girl with black fuzz on her head, eyes so vacant she might have already been dead. Her little knees just boney bumps connecting soft brown twigs. No matter how hard he tried to push the image away, he couldn’t help but see Madzie standing there.  
… bouncy curls fallen away…  
…. bright, hopeful eyes dead and sunken…  
….. bubbly laughter silenced by ugly cruelty…  
…. precious life stolen away all because of him…

Alec choked, squeezing his eyes close.

“No!” Karolina snapped, jerking on his chine. “No, you look! Look and see the price of your defiance!” She released her hold suddenly and rose up. “Or do you finally understand that these creatures are not worth the dignity of a Child of God?”

The Shadowhunter’s jaw set. Holding his breath, he forced his eyes open, forcing himself to look at those children whose lives were lost because of him. Children who should have been chasing butterflies, blowing bubbles, conjuring sprinkles for their icecream….

There was a wet clonk sound.  
The first child, a boy maybe twelve... his head snapped forward, then he fell to the floor. Behind him stood a robed figure, a bloody hammer in his hand.

Alec blinked. He couldn’t comprehend what he was seeing.   
He knew what he was seeing!  
He just couldn’t wrap his mind around it!

Then came the second wet clunk and the second child fell.

“No! Stop!” Alec screamed. He wrestled against the straps, never noticing as they cut into his flesh. “Stop! Please! They’re just children!” he pleaded.

A third clunk!

This one had blond fuzz on his head and big, bushy eyebrows. Alec remembered seeing him once, beside the table. He had dared to actually smile a little before they had started.

The fourth child fidgeted, his eyes locked on the floor in front of him.

“Please!” Alex begged. “Please… whatever you want…”

The fourth clunk sounded a little odd.

The boy hit the floor, but the kill wasn’t clean. He seizured, shaking violently, whimpering. The murderer leaned over and took another swing with his weapon, stilling the child forever.

“STOP!” Alec screamed until his throat burned, tears streaming down his cheeks. “By the Angel… by God…. Please….” 

The last child, the little girl with the black fuzz and dark skin…  
… the little girl who could have, by a flip of a coin, been his little Madzie…  
… She looked up at him, her eyes glistening with just the slightest sign of life, a last spark of hope, all she had left…

“Wait! Please! Please…. Don’t…”

A wet clunk…

And she swayed and fell, so light she could have been a dying leaf falling in the wind.

Alec released a sound akin to both a scream and a sob. He tried to rip his eyes away from the little bodies, but he couldn’t. His body shook with heaving sobs that stole his breath away, leaving his mind swirling.

After a moment Karolina stepped forward, blocking his view. She laid a comforting hand on his shoulder and gave him a gentle squeeze. “Sin always comes at a great cost.” She soothed. “Are you done paying that price?” she wondered.

Grinding his teeth, Alexander turned his eyes up to her. Forcing his sobs down into the pit of his gut where they turned and hardened like a heavy stone, he let rage boil up in its stead. Jerking up against his bonds, he snarled at the woman who murdered children on his behalf: “Before I die, I’m going to kill you!”

Karolina smiled. “See? Now this is honesty.” With a nod, she looked across the table he was strapped to to yet another young Warlock. “Proceed.”

The child laid his hands over Alec’s last Rune, his last sin, and began.

~~~~~


	12. Chapter 11

========  
Chapter Eleven  
========

The crack of the whip sounded only half a breath before the gun discharged.

The Order Knight swore as his fingers went dead, his pistol falling to the ground. He spun about, clutching his bleeding hand to his chest and made a run for the portal his partner had just jumped through. But, before he could take two steps, another crack of the whip sounded. 

Isabella Lightwood’s signature weapon snapped about his ankle and, with a jerk, she yanked his feet out from under him. “Hold him!” she commanded, releasing her whip with a twist of the wrist. Then she was spinning, twirling her weapon and bringing it down on another Knight who was making a run for the portal.

As soon as her attention shifted, a large wolf leaped on the downed man’s back, big heavy paws pinning him to the ground. Powerful jaws clamped down around the back of his neck with just enough pressure to make sure he wasn’t going anywhere.

The second Knight was bringing his axe down at the werewolf that had leaped in his way. 

Izzy’s whip snapped around his wrist, pulling him back, off balance.

The wolf spun, snapping her teeth deep into the Knight’s arm. With an angry shake, she whipped the man like a rag doll, sending the axe skidding across the floor. She thrashed her victim so violently that even Izzy was jerked to the side before she could release her whip.

The Shadowhunter released her hold on the Knight with a snap of her whip. Leaving him to the werewolf’s not-so-tender care, she spun about, searching the ally for any other threat.

A third Knight was picking herself up from the ground only to have a blur of color rush pass her, slamming her against the brick wall. Another vampire rushed in, a thin fingered hand wrapping around the Knight’s throat, lifting her up, pinning her against the wall. The first vampire joined the wall, snatching the Knight’s wrist, twisting until, with a crunching sound and a scream, she dropped her speaker like weapon at the vampire’s feet.

Izzy continued her turn, trusting that her team had their prisoners well in hand. There was a wounded vampire, arms wrapped around his crushed chest. A Warlock was crouching over him, his hands already aglow with yellow healing magic. Another Knight laid on the ground, the face burned beyond recognizing even if it had been male or female. Another werewolf in his human form stood guard at the end of the ally, itching to be part of the action, but too obedient to leave his post. 

Izzy completed her turn just as the portal hissed out of existence. With a snap of her wrist, her whip coiled up her arm, returning to its guise as a beautiful, if harmless, bangle bracelet. “West, how’s Orin?” she called over her shoulder.

“He’ll live.” the Warlock assured. “Well… he’ll be… just as dead as before…?”

“Really, Goldilocks?” snarled the vampire under his care.

Izzy smirked. “Crystal, check on the Den. Make sure everyone’s alright inside.”

“And, hey, remind them that we helped too!” called the wolf on look out.

One of the other vampires vanished in a blur that headed down a set of steps to a basement door.

“Lock them up and gag them.” Izzy commanded her troops. “Anyone starts sputter some suicide prayer, knock them out.”

“Be safer just to rip out their throats!” Orin grumbled.

A muffled snarl from the wolf with a Knight’s neck between his teeth noted his agreement.

“No!” the Shadowhunter answered, being sure to sound, oh, a whole hell of a lot more convincing than she felt about the matter. “No unnecessary killing! You start acting like the animals they accuse you of being, and you might as well just hand them the win!” Damn it, she hated quoting Simon, but, turned out, the little wonder vamp was actually pretty good at this. 

Who’d o’ guessed, right?

Little geek blamed his unexpected mastery of strategy on board games: Risk, Chess, Stratego, Pokémon…

Simon’s strategy had led them to three different attacks now, each time the Downworlds came out on top, chasing off the Knights, killing few, but arresting others. These three brought their prisoner count to eight.

He even predicted this little raid on a tiny, lone vampire den, one of the few who had decided to try to stay low, out of sight and on their own, while the bigger Clans had banded together for mutual protection. Simon had said the Order would go after the emotional blows. Izzy had doubted that a den of, what?, eight fangs was much of an emotional blow, but even she reacted with rage at the thought of the bully Order picking on the smallest, weakest of them!

Let it be said many times over that Isabella Lightwood, Shadowhunter, despised bullies!

Shaking her head, Izzy turned to the nearest wolf and helped secure the prisoners. 

~~~~~

A thundering crash vibrated through the icy floor. 

Alec’s heavy eyelids peeled open, but instantly squeezed closed against a flash of hot whiteness. 

Another thundering crash rocked his little cell. 

He braced his hands flat on the floor and pushed, lifting himself up onto his knees. His skin burned with the cold of the steel, turning his hands and knees an angry red. But through the cold, he could feel the vibration of yet another crash.

An explosion!

An explosion that rocked the entire ship!

An explosion…

Alec blinked against the light when it suddenly went out. Instead of being replaced by its customary black ice, a snap sounded, and the soft glow of embedded emergency lights switched on. 

Something heavy slammed against the wall, rattling the steel.

Alec looked up.

The smooth wall that was sometimes the door cracked. Another heavy hit and it shattered, sending metal shards flying across the cell.

The young Shadowhunter fell across the floor, throwing an arm over his head. His ears echoed with the thumping of his racing heart.

“Alec!” was screamed in a whisper.

He covered his ears, fingers curling around, digging into cartilage. He squeezed his eyes closed, teeth digging into his lower lip.

“Alec!” came the screamed whisper again, a sound from so far away, yet pierced his ear drums. Strong hands closed on his shoulders, lifting him up to his knees. “Brother!” Fingers brushed his sweat damp hair away from his face. “Alec, look at me! It’s me! It’s us! We’re here!”

The screaming whisper softened, becoming a hum. The words had shape before, but now they took meaning.

Brother…

Alec forced his eyes open, forced heavy muscles to lift his chin, forced himself to believe…  
And gazed into the two-toned eyes of his Parabatia… his brother…

“Jace!” It came out as a sob, his hands falling from his ears. 

Jace smiled that cocky smile of his. “We got you, brother.” He assured.

Alec looked up to see that they were all there. That they had all come… finally… for him.

Lizzy, hair blowing in the wind, snake headed fighting staff twirling in the air, a laugh ever ready on her lips.

Clary, crowned by waves of fiery locks, her hand aglow with sun light.

That idiot Simon, the Selie Queen’s mark pulsing on his forehead, a stupid smile taking up half his face.

Luke, tall and menacing, golden shield on his belt, gun in one hand, the other held out in an offer of help.

Magnus…

Alec’s gut twisted; his throat tightened; tears burned his eyes.

The Warlock floated down to one knee in front of him. His cat eyes were a wonderous sight and his smile magical. He leaned forward, placing a hand flat on Alec’s bare chest. “My sweet Alexander…” he purred as he leaned even closer, gently pushing his young lover back and back, until Alec was lying on his back on the soft, warm covers. 

Alec’s mind skipped, trying to grasp what was happening.   
But he didn’t want to see.   
He didn’t want to question.   
He didn’t want to know.  
He didn’t want to wake up…

He gazed up into those cat eyes, trying so hard to believe that he was really there. 

“My Alexander!” Magnus hissed before his head dipped and he kissed Alec.

It was almost gentle at first, a lure to pull him deeper into this world. But then the kiss pressed on, mashing lips against teeth until the copper tint of blood slipped across Alec’s taste buds. The hand on his chest pushed harder, pinning him down.

Alec squeezed his eyes closed again.  
Magnus!  
Magnus!  
Magnus!  
Please…..  
Be Magnus…..

He could feel fingers pull on his hair, tilting his head back as teeth nipped at his ear. 

“My Alexander!” Adrian snarled possessively.

Alec’s world shattered, sending shards of hope flying through the air and into oblivion. With an agonizing sob, he stretched his fingers out, trying to catch some whisper of his loved ones, some belief that they would come for him.

Adrian’s merciless fingers grabbed the front of his shorts and jerked. “My Alexander!” he said again.

“NO!” Alec screamed at him, giving up trying to reclaim his hope, and weakly striking his fists against the damn man’s ribs. “I am not yours! Never! Ever! No!” he screamed incoherently, blindly striking back. There was no strategy to his counterattack, no plan. Just the ravaging desire to strike back.

But the man didn’t seem at all bothered by the blows. He laughed at them, in fact. He let it go on for a moment. Then he struck with a vengeance, snatching Alec’s left wrist and jerking it to the right so hard, Alec was forced over on to his stomach. With a twist, Adrian had the captured limb pinned up Alec’s back, pinning him down to the bed. Stradling his captive, he leaned down over his back. “Oh, what is ever so wrong, MY sweet Alexander? Did you have a dream? Did you think that they would come for you? For you?” His tongue flicked out, lapping at the sensitive ear lobe, making his prey flinch. “I am your only hope of salvation, MY little angel… MY Alexander. Let me show you what that hope feels like….”

Alec cried out…

~~~~~

Captain Hubert van Leige turned from the scene beyond the one-way window. He had no taste for it. Truth be told, if he had had other options, he wouldn’t have allowed it. But drastic times…

Van Leige was not accustomed to being angry. Of course, he was not accustomed to losing. 

New York was proving quite a bit more formable than anticipated. The bond between the Downworlder races was not so easily broken. The Shadowhunters not so easily manipulated.

Lightwood had to be Saved!

It was the only hope the city had!

They could not allow this corruption to spread, to infect other communities, to infect the world with its sickening taint. Could not allow this disease to spread!

If they could not convince Alexander Lightwood to lead them to the Light, then the Order van Helsing would be left with no other choice: New York would have to burn!

~~~~~

Magnus glared at the map. 

The map!

He never knew he could despise lines on paper.

Sure, words had been the most brutal weapon mankind had ever possessed. Holy books, titles, ownerships, treaties, deals, money… all little lines etched on little bits of paper, century after century…

But Magnus had never really hated those lines. It was the thoughts behind them, not the lines.

Then there was that map of New York!

That damn map!

With its big, splotchy images scattered across its surfaces, 

Something… someone… had warded the city. There was a fog that moved like a living thing, constantly changing shape and size. Every time he tried to track anything the fog grew and thickened, hiding more and more of the city. He had even tried to track a cat, for crying out loud!

It was maddening!

“Maybe you should take a break.”

Magnus glanced up to see Clary watching him from the doorway. “Well, hello, biscuit, How’s the hunting?”

Clary shrugged. She bobbed her head to where Jace could be seen shoving a bound and gagged Knight down the hall and out of sight. “Keeping busy.” She paused, looking to make sure Jace was gone. Then she turned back to Magnus. “You alright?”

Magnus chuckled. With raised eyebrows and a twirl of fingers in the air, he opened his mouth to assure her.

But the little red head shook her head. “Magnus… it’s me. I know what it’s like to have the man I love kidnapped by evil forces. To be helpless to do anything…”

“Helpless!” Magnus huffed. He glared at the map again. “Powerless! Week! Feeble!” he practically spat. “A few enslaved Warlock children have locked me out of my own city!”

“Well, few seems to be more like a small army.” Clary countered. “And even I know fear can be a powerful motivator. Those kids were probably snatched away just like they tried to do to ours. They’re scared and alone, hurt and confused. You can’t be mad at them.”

The High Warlock smiled at her. “See, Biscuit, that’s what makes you special. Everyone is innocent and needs to be saved.” He sighed, dropping his eyes. “Alexander’s like that.” He shook his head. “I’m not angry at the children. They’re innocent victims. I am angry… angry at myself for not seeing this coming!”

“Magnus…” 

A siren sounded; red lights began to flash.

Magnus looked about. “What is it?” 

“The prisoners.” Clary breathed, glancing about at the flashing lights. And then, with a gasped “Jace!” she spun about and ran. 

~~~~~

Jace pushed his prisoner up against the stone wall of the Vault and glanced around. 

There were six cells, their clear walls facing the inner Vault. Five of the cells were occupied, a prisoner shackled and gagged in each one. The Shadowhunters had been careful to keep the troublemakers separate, sending three off with Luke to be entered into a mundane suicide ward at their jail. The Order didn’t seem all that interested in letting their fellow mundanes in on their holy war, so they seemed to behave in their custody. 

Despite those they kept being the more docile, the more likely to talk given the proper encouragement, Jace couldn’t help but feel uneasy around them. Secured, gagged, unable to threaten anyone, and still… 

They watched him.

Even when the others were in the room, it was Jace that they watched. Calm and quiet, eyes following him as if nothing else existed.

Like now. All five pairs of eyes on him. 

Jace felt the prisoner in his grip move just enough to catch his attention. He snapped back to him, giving him an extra shove against the wall. “Behave!” he growled.

The man instantly submitted, like a whipped dog. 

Jace frowned at the response. Everything about the prisoner seemed docile, except for those damn eyes that looked right at him, never wavering. 

Just like all those other eyes…

Jace jerked the man off the wall and shoved him before him. The third cell back on the left. He had just pushed his prisoner to the center of the cell when the man suddenly set his feet and stopped.

The young Shadowhunter paused at the sudden resistance. He was about to open his mouth to growl a command when he heard an electronic clank behind him, quickly echoed by four others.

Jace glanced over his shoulder, but he couldn’t see the other cells from where he stood. 

Then he heard the shackles hit the floor. 

“Damnation…” Jace started when suddenly the so-called docile prisoner was suddenly spinning, slamming the heals of both hands hard into his gut.

Air exploded from his lungs as Jace slammed back against the wall. Another strike like lightening, snapped Jace’s head against the wall. The world spun and dimmed. 

But, then, Jace’s Angel blood flared, his heightened instincts kicking in. He rolled across the wall just in time to hear fist strike wall. His senses suddenly battle ready, he could even hear the bones breaking in his attacker’s hand. Almost blindly, he snapped out a hand, wrapping strong fingers around the man’s wrist. With a growl, he jerked his one-time prisoner forward, slamming him face first into the wall.

Letting him slide to the floor, Jace backed away. He took a couple deep breaths, clearing away the fog. He reached up to feel the blood on the back of his head. His eyes flared, instinct in kicking again, activating his healing rune…

Footsteps.

Jace looked at the door.

The prisoner from cell three, a woman, stepped through and moved to the side, making room for the prisoner from cell five. He was followed be the prisoner from cell one. Within another breath, the five prisoners, somehow freed from shackles and gags and their own cells, were spread out between Jace and any hope of escape.

Jace actually smiled. He really was tired of letting everyone else do the fighting.

One moved first, taking a leap high in the air to the right, bringing his fist down from above, all his weight behind his attack. 

Jace dove in his direction, but instead of meeting the attack, he ducked under and behind, meeting the next attack from Four who was striking up from the ground. Jace spun, his foot kicking, striking the back of Four’s elbow of his outstretched arm. 

The arm snapped, spinning the man to the floor with a grunt.

Then Jace was moving onto Three and Two.

The two women moved in unison, one from each side, Though Jace moved with lightening strikes, they matched him move for move. Neither Knights nor Shadowhunter seemed to be able to get over on the other.

Jace swatted down a kick from one, ducking under a swing from the other. Two blocked a punch from the Shadowhunter while Three twisted out of his grasp.

Then One was back, snapping a kick at the back on Jace’s knee, buckling the leg.

Jace stumbled right into Two who grabbed his shoulders and jerked him down to meet her knee.

The Shadowhunter punched down, striking the knee before it hit his face, slamming it down with such force he could feel the bone crack. Grabbing her by the waist, he twisted about, as if dancing her around, releasing her to spin into Three. He continued his turn on one leg, until he was facing One who was coming at him again from above. Wobbling on his buckling leg, Jace could only throw up an arm to fend off the blow.

But, before the blow could land, a rush of wind blew passed Jace, picking up and throwing One across the cell to slam with bone jarring force against the wall.

Five, standing at the door, threw himself at Magnus.

Clary’s blade sliced up, separating Five’s hands from his arms.

Shocked, the man dropped to his knees in mid-charge, sliding across the floor.

With an enraged screech, Clary leaped into the cell. Her blades cutting twin arcs through the air, she sent the prisoners stumbling back and away from Jace. 

With the interruption, the Knights instantly returned to their docile form, arms going slack at their sides.

Clary hesitated at the sudden lack of threat.

Jace did not. Grabbing the red head around the waist, he limped out of the cell with her in tow. Slamming the door closed, he growled at Magnus “Seal it shut!”

The warlock frowned, but obliged with a twirl of the hands that sent blue fire racing around the frame of the door, sealing it. 

“How’d they get out?” Clary wanted to know as she slipped under Jace’s arm, offering her support as he limped to a bench at the wall.

“I don’t know.” Jace growled. “But it was planned. It was all a trap. They got themselves in here to come after us…”

“You.” Clary corrected. She looked back at the men and women just standing silently in the cell, watching Jace. “They got locked up in here to come after you!” She shook her head. “But how did they get loose?”

“Maybe because they’re Shadowhunters.” Magnus offered from where he crouched beside Five who was curled up around his bleeding stumps. “Well, Nephilim, anyways.”

“What?” Clary looked at him. 

“Are you sure?” Jace wanted to know.

Magnus nodded. As he ran a healing hand over the man, he told the Shadowhunters “Not a Rune on them, but I can feel the Angel blood coursing through their veins.”

“But… how can that be?” Clary couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“Same as you.” Jace was more excepting. “Disavowed or banished Shadowhunters, deruned, or just in hiding like Jocelyn… or the children of such.” He shook his head. “But these cells held Valintine, for crying out loud! Being a Shadowhunter doesn’t open doors here. That doesn’t explain how they got out. Or why.”

“Kill the Two-Blood.” Five mumbled. Red streaked eyes glared up at Jace over the man’s bloody stumps he held close to his chest, as if he could hug them to him. “Kill the Two-Blood that binds Lightwood to his taint. Cleanse his soul for Salvation.” With a gurgled snarl, he tried to rise to his feet, his eyes filled with murderous hate.

“That will be enough of that, thank you.” Magnus brushed a hand across Five’s face and the Knight slumped back to the floor, unconscious. 

Jace stared at the man. “They’re trying to cut Alec’s link to us.”

Clary understood now. “If you can feel his pain, he must feel something of you… your strength, your determination… The Parabatai Rune keeps him from being alone. They can’t really break him as long as he has you!”

Magnus rose up, rubbing his hands together. “Then Alexander will always have you!” he promised.

~~~~~

Alexander tried not to see those big, blue eyes as the light faded and the twitching stilled. The tiny chest sank as the last of the air left lungs far too young to have taken their last breath.

“You could tell yourself that at least its suffering is at an end.” Karolina Cyprian whispered as she leaned close over Alec’s ear, her strong hand clamped around his chin, keeping him from turning his eyes away from where the child’s body laid lifeless on the cold floor. “But, considering you are responsible for its suffering in the first place, I would imagine that would be of small comfort.”

The Shadowhunter bit his lower lip, trying to trap his heart broken whimper. His eyes burned with tears he refused to shed as he watched yet another small child being dragged away like just another bag of trash. 

Karolina turned his head to see the little warlock standing on the other side of the table. “The same fate you promise this little creature.” she told him.

Alec felt his chest ache. 

Yet another innocent child…  
… Where were they getting all of them?....  
…… hallow cheeks, sunken eyes, pale lips, patches of scraggly hair…  
He was shivering with fear. He knew what he was going to be forced to do. He knew what was going to happen to him. He had just watched them murder the last child.

Oh, how Alec wanted to comfort him, assure him that everything was going to be alright, that he didn’t have to do this…

“Stop…” Alec begged through cracked lips. “Just stop…. Let it end…”

Karolina ran her fingers through his shaggy, black curls. “Oh, Alexander, there is only two ways for this end: surrender completely to your Cleansing, release this Taint, this blemish of your soul. Or…” She paused to shrug. “Or die… for we will never surrender our fight for your soul. Not until your soul is beyond our aid.”

Alec squeezed his eyes tight, tears escaping, leaving trails that tickled down his skin.

And then the burning started….

========


End file.
